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pedrospatch · 6 months

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fall into temptation | three

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high.

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter.

His youngest daughter.

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still.

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit.

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock, right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none.

Still.

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation.

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him.

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told.

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs.

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you wore underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

#fic: fall into temptation #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #post outbreak joel

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glossysoap · 3 months

Text

price recs / poly 141 recs

requested by the one and only @vgilantee! i’m so sorry this took so long 😭

mind the warnings/tags when clicking on each link.

like i said with my last rec list, if i think of any others i’ll edit this post to add them, then i’ll reblog this post with a note saying it’s been added to.

in addition, as i was putting this post together, i read all of these recs again. i have reblogs of them all drafted up, even if i’ve already reblogged them before. after i post this, i’ll start posting those reblogs so i’m sorry if it clogs your dash 😅

price:

- the space in between by @391780 (i mean come ON. you know i had to. that series, and early, has me by the neck. i rec anything from early, duhhh)

- the arrangement by @/391780 (as i’m typing this i’ve only read the first chapter and i already KNOW i’m obsessed with it)

- mafia price au by @cordeliawhohung (there’s also pieces for ghost, gaz and soap in the same universe that i recommend as well! it’s all linked in the same masterlist)

- oral fixation by @/cordeliawhohung (foaming at the mouth for this oh my god 😵‍💫 and literally anything by core obviously)

- mask on by @/391780

- the captain’s wife by @/391780

- first time by @/391780

- sick day by @/391780 (so so sweet and what a cute read 🥹 tossing this at char while they’re sick because it’s absolutely perfect.)

- captain’s on the way by @/391780 (once i get that text, oh you can bet your ass i’ll be ready 🥰)

- price returning from deployment by @vgilantee (i recommend anything from char duhhh. if you check in the reblogs you’ll see any additions char has added to this post.)

- kissing price by @/vgilantee (literally the dream)

- subspace + oral fixation by @/vgilantee (oh jeez 😵‍💫 this is still just as hot as when we talked abt it in dms)

- cumming in his pants by @/vgilantee (if you check in the reblogs you’ll see any additions that char has made to this post)

- heavy by @/vgilantee (i know it’s heavy, i just know it. i can hold it—)

- were - price’s cock by @/vgilantee (if you check in the reblogs you’ll see any additions that char has made to this post)

- cockwarming him while sick by @/vgilantee (check the reblogs and you’ll see any addition that char has made to this post)

- devoured by @xxshadowbabexx (woof woof woof oh my god. still barking at this request you filled for me 🤭)

- rules are made to be broken by @/xxshadowbabexx (oh lord oh lord oh lord. foaming at the mouth for this request you filled for me 😵‍💫)

- you stopped sharing your location with price by @syoddeye (one of my first reads that yanked my ass into dark fic 😵‍💫 i need that man)

- barista sized hole by @/syoddeye (god this changed me 😵‍💫 bark bark bark. literally anything from sy!! duh)

- flashing by @/syoddeye (oh i’m gonna need him to chase me thru the house just like that)

- thighs + choking kink by @pfhwrittes (anything from p really. oh this made my fat little heart sing!!!)

- male submission by @/pfhwrittes (i need him i need him.)

- older by @femalefemur (oh lord this spoke to me 😵‍💫)

- calling him captain by @/femalefemur (GOD the title kink/honorific kink was fed with this. i rec anything from cyn, obvi)

- peeping tom i / ii / iii by @secretsynthetic (i wanna say these were the first pieces i read from naomi and ugh, they warmed my heart. i rec everything from naomi, duh.)

- priceghost/puppygirl reader intro i intro ii / i / ii / iii by @/secretsynthetic

- tiger balm by @/secretsynthetic (so so precious. i love pricegaz as a ship and naomi captures it so so well and adding reader into the mix just makes it even better 😵‍💫)

- take me home, country road by @ceilidho (duh, of course. and i think we all know i rec everything from ceil)

- pretending to be husband/wife by @/ceilidho (woof woof woof)

- babysitter au by @/ceilidho

- captain price x reader x captain mactavish by @sprout-fics (this was such a NEED. also i rec anything from her, duh)

- (re)organized crime by @charliemwrites (oh this series is so fucking cute. i’m in love! i rec anything from charlie, let’s be real.)

- price’s thighs by @captainswhore (i love everything they post and i love when you tag me for my thoughts on things 🥺 i rec anything from them)

- hoarfrost i / ii by @eilidh-eternal (the way this feeds my predator/prey kink is absolutely outrageous. i love it so much never stop please 😭 rec everything from eilidh, duh)

- house hunting by @/eilidh-eternal

- nevermind i / ii by @captainfern (these were one of the first cod fics i ever read and whew buddy, it not only infected me with the price bug (that’s never leaving) but its also one of the fics that made me wanna start writing for cod. so i’m absolutely rec’ing everything from fernie 🥹)

- headlock by @/captainfern (rorororo oh my god. y’all know how i am about headlock sex.)

- you know you’re right by @/captainfern (jealous bodyguard price fucking you stupid? oh i need him)

- about a girl i / ii by @/captainfern (i’m always fucking weak for the trope ‘he makes you squirt for the first time and now he’s gonna make you do it like 5 more times if it’s the last thing he does’)

- bury your teeth in me by @yeyinde (jesus christ this was so hot, i’m stunned. i rec anything from lev, ofc.)

- spanked by price by @/yeyinde

- keep quiet by @kyletogaz (woof woof woof! that’s me barking! i rec anything from jess!)

- retirement party by @sentientcave (i need to catch up on this but i’m rec’ing regardless bc i know it’s gold. i rec anything from charlie)

- firewatch by @roosterr (oh this was amazing. i loved their banter!! so cute! i rec anything from rooster!)

- outside it starts to pour by @/roosterr

- john? by @ghastlybirdie (sunny this was so 😭😭 when i first read it (and any time after that) i just about cried bc it’s so!!! so so sad but also precious. it’s so immersive and amazingly done. i rec anything from sunny ily)

- my daddy didn’t love me by @makoodles (oh lorddddd this fed me so well. daddy issues gang rise up 😭 i rec everything from them)

- walkthrough by @mikichko (sosososo cute!! i rec everything from kiko)

- inspections by @moondirti (fuck fuck fuck 😵‍💫 i rec everything from them ofc)

- price + nik inspection by @ghouljams (literal legend, ofc i rec anything from them!)

- backshot hc by @/ghouljams

- landscape with honey by @/ceilidho

- neighbors by @eowynstwin (i rec literally anything from madi!!! send them love <3)

poly 141:

- origins of poly 141 x reader by @/vgilantee (keep an eye out for any additions to the post, as always. i rec anything and everything from that au)

- monster 141 au by @/vgilantee (i know it’s not all technically poly but in my head it is, so 😌 and i rec anything and everything from that au) click the tag under that post to find all posts in that au

- #141omegaverse~ by @/vgilantee (idk how to make links for tags unless it’s already made into a link, so go search that tag on char’s blog 😅 and i rec anything and everything from that au)

- price’s girl is the 141’s barracks bunny by @/vgilantee

- mafia au series by @groguspicklejar (y’all KNOW i had to include this. really anything from kelsi ofc)

- from specgru with love by @/charliemwrites (the angst in this is so fucking good. the 141 yearning for reader while readers moved on and leaving them in the dust? AND the jon bernthal face claim for the hot as fuck captain on readers new team? i’m fainting.)

- mister(s) steal your girl by @/charliemwrites (i need to catch up on this one but i’m rec’ing anyway bc i know it’s pure gold)

- tf141 kinks by @/pfhwrittes

- tf141 kinks pt2 by @/pfhwrittes

- tag, you’re it by @/sprout-fics (what a classic. i’m 99% sure i reblogged them a lot earlier in my fandom days but regardless, i’m going through and reblogging everything in this list anyways.)

- omegaverse au by @/sprout-fics (i need to catch up on this but i’m rec’ing regardless bc i know it’s so fucking good.)

- afterburn by @/sprout-fics (what a great aftercare fic, so soft and sweet and heated all at the same time.)

- poly 141 headcanons by @/sprout-fics

- netflix and chill by @luvit (this series was sooo 😵‍💫 the variation of kinks between each one was so hot. also it’s totally obvious that i rec everything from them)

- that man is a dog! by @/luvit (i need to catch up on this but i’m rec’ing this regardless bc i know it’s gold)

- contractor au by @/kyletogaz

- vampire 141 making you cum with a bite by @/kyletogaz

- you, gaz, and price by @kyletogaz

- squirting by @chamomiletealeaf (woof woof this is so fucking hot. i rec anything from them)

- 141 sharing you by @/captainfern

- backshots by @/captainfern

- free use by @ohbo-ohno (oh lord,, that is just the dream. where do i sign up? also i rec anything from bo)

- orgy by @/ohbo-ohno

- fucking machine by @/ohbo-ohno (i know this one isn’t including a reader but its sooo 😵‍💫 that i had to include it)

- body electric by @/yeyinde (THEE call of duty gangbang fic.)

- virgin reader x 141 i / ii / iii by @/yeyinde

- spoils by @/syoddeye

- pack cuddles by @mockerycrow (so so so cute. i’ve reread this countless times. i rec anything from crow)

- spread open by @iciclesses (oh lord!!!!! oh my god 😵‍💫😵‍💫 i rec anything from them ofc)

- they decide you’re theirs by @fulltacs (bowing down to you and your genius brain. thank you for feeding us and for doing the lords work ykwim 👀. i rec everything from them)

- poly 141 therapist sharing au by @kyletogaz (holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck)

- heavy hitters; a wrestling au by @dwarvenales (love love LOVE. i rec anything from kai ofc)

- scp au by @ghouljams (ok i know it’s not technically described as poly 141 per se but it’s a 141 au and i couldn’t resist adding it)

- binders and boyfriends by @pfhwrittes (again i know it’s not poly 141 per se but it includes the 141 as a whole and i couldn’t resist adding this to the rec list)

- tradie 141 au by @/pfhwrittes (again, couldn’t resist)

#glossysreclists 🏹

744 notes · View notes

dollfacefantasy · 9 months

Text

Restless Dreams

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets home late after another hard day at work to you having some extra sweet dreams.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, somnophilia, wet dream

word count: 3.6k

a/n: hey everyone!! hope you all enjoy this :) i guess i've been into soft leon with somno lately idk LOL. i was kind of tired myself when writing/editing this, so forgive any errors pretty please. new divider from here. thank you for any comments and reblogs <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus

“So what time do you think you’re gonna get here?” you ask before blowing on the drying polish that coats your nails.

“My shift finishes up at 12, and then I gotta file some reports. I’ll probably be done at 1, so not too long after that,” Leon explains through the phone. Despite his attempt to lay it out for you, there’s still a pause, one he came to recognize as your reaction of displeasure. A smile plays on his lips. “But you know the real answer is as soon as I can.”

You look down at your phone on your vanity, a pout forming on your face. Obviously, it wasn’t his fault he had to work so much now. He’d warned you when he started at the police station a few months ago, but it didn’t prepare you for how much you’d miss him.

It made you feel dumb, that nagging, achy feeling of longing in your chest. It wasn’t like he was off to war or something. You still saw him almost everyday. But more and more of his time was consumed by work now. Even when he was with you, he was often exhausted.

Sometimes all you could think about his new job was that he was your boyfriend, not theirs. You’d mentally scold yourself for being so immature when that happened, but the sentiment still lingered in your head.

“Ok…” you say, trying to keep your voice neutral. He hears the dejection in your tone though.

“Baby,” he coos in that voice that sent warmth through your spine and got you to agree with everything he said, “You know I’d rather be with you. I’m just new and have to take the time to learn. Plus, with the caseload and the number of officers here, they need me at the station.”

“I need you more,” you say. You try to pass it off as playfulness, but it comes from real feelings. Your heart was beginning to tense with resentment for the RPD for taking him away so much. You knew the job meant a lot to him though which is why you would never unleash your admittedly petty frustrations.

A low laugh leaves him, and you can hear that loving smirk on his face as his voice comes through your phone’s speaker.

“Do you now? You’re really missing me that much?” he teases, leaning back in the driver’s seat of his cruiser.

He knew that you did in fact miss him that much. And even though, since starting at the police station, he tried to project the image of a tough guy, he missed you just as much. That’s why he started calling you during lulls in his shift.

“Mhm. It’s not fair. It’s like I’m sharing you with the station. And I don’t like sharing,” you say with an exaggerated huff.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” he chuckles. He sighs happily, checking the time to calculate how much time was left before he could have you in his arms again. “But not much longer, baby. Then you get me all to yourself for the whole weekend.”

“I better,” you grumble with a smile.

“I promise you will,” he says genuinely. A light on his dashboard flickers, alerting him that his attention is needed elsewhere. “Just don’t stay up too late waiting for me tonight, ok? Your rest is important.”

“Seeing you is more important,” you respond.

“I know, but I prefer my girl when she’s not all cranky and sleep deprived. So try tonight, sweetheart. For me?” he asks.

“I guess,” you concede. Your heart already aches, knowing he’s about to hang up.

“I love you, baby,” he says softly, “I’ll see you later.”

“I love you too,” you tell him before he disconnects the call.

The silence that falls over your room makes it feel even more empty. You tap the glass screen of your phone, scanning for the time before you finish getting ready for bed. Your mouth curves downward when the numbers light up on the screen.

Only 10:30. Too much time till you’ll hear him come through your front door, but it’s not like you can do anything about it. You haphazardly go through the rest of your routine before dragging yourself over to your bed and getting in.

Sliding between the soft pink sheets, you flop down against your pillow and stare at the ceiling as you contemplate how to kill the time. Nothing grabs your interest because none of it’s him. It’s all just filler.

And worst of all, you were starting to feel sleepy. You wanted to wait up for Leon so badly, but you also went through a whole day of your own that tired you out. Plus, your bed was just so comfy with your plush blankets and full pillows, stuffed animals and frilly decorative cushions scattered on one side.

Thinking it would help to keep your eyes actively focused on something, you try to read. Your eyes scan over the words, and it isn’t long before you realize you’d made a horrible mistake. Moving your eyes along the page only made them more drowsy.

Next you turn on the tv and put on something you didn’t really have to pay attention to. But the soft glow of the tv casts across you and the low chatter of the characters becomes background noise, making it even harder for you to keep your eyes open.

You lazily reach across your bed and grab the bunny stuffie Leon had bought for you a few weeks prior. Tucking it beneath your chin and close to your chest, your drooping eyes fall shut and your breaths become soft and even. Barely any time has gone by before you’re sinking into slumber.

Leon glances down at his phone, the small numbers illuminating 2:04 in the darkness of the hallway. He enters your place with the key you gave him and shuts the door as quietly as possible. He knows you’re sleeping from seeing the dark bedroom. Already feeling guilty for taking longer than he’d expected, he didn’t want to add to that feeling by waking you up.

He makes his way to your room, padding silently down the hall. Once he reaches the door, he pushes it open with almost no force in an attempt to avoid even the slightest creak. You’re where he expected you to be, curled up in your bed, completely peaceful as you slept. He knew he probably looked like a little lovesick puppy right about now, eager to hop into bed and snuggle up to your side, but he didn’t care.

It takes him no time to shed his police uniform. He makes quick work of unlacing his boots and kicking them off. His pants and shirt crumple up at the foot of your bed next to his belt and socks. Finally, once he’s got on a pair of sweatpants he kept at your place, he climbs into bed with you.

He shoves your stuffies and extra pillows out of his way with a playful roll of his eyes and gets as close to you as he can. His arm drapes over you, and he nuzzles the back of your neck, planting a few kisses on the base of your head. You smelled so good, felt so soft, perfect to come home to.

His body melts into the mattress, and he’s ready to give into his own urges to sleep. That is until he notices you’re not as peaceful as you appeared from the doorway. His eyebrows raise as he feels your legs squirming. Restless movements from your feet beneath the covers and your thighs shifting aimlessly against each other.

He’s ready to brush it off at first. ‘Must just be having some wild dreams,’ he thinks with another kiss to your head. But then he hears the faintest sound, so quiet that he probably would have missed it had he been focused on anything else. It’s a whimper. A gentle, tender squeak that slips from between your lips into the cool air of your bedroom.

Now, his face conveys his concern. He worries you’re having a nightmare. That at any moment you’ll wake up with tears in your eyes and your heart pounding out of your chest. Immediately, he begins stroking your arm, kissing your temple, murmuring “It’s ok, baby. I’m here.”

But you make that little noise again, and this time it paints a different picture in Leon’s head. This whimper didn’t sound scared or stressed, like you were crying out for his protection. No, this sound brought to mind images of you writhing beneath him, nails marking his biceps with small crescents as he pumped himself in and out of you.

He shakes his head because that couldn’t be it. That’s just his horny mind creating things that aren’t there from being so pent up.

At least that’s what he tells himself until you make the noise again. It brings the same memories up, but this time he’s even more sure of it. He lifts his head off of yours to look down at you and try to figure out what to do next.

You look so cute, brows slightly furrowed, lips parted. As he brushes some hair from your face, he notices your fingers clutching your stuffed rabbit a little tighter. Your breath hitches for a moment before you let out a soft, sleepy whine of his name.

It’s unmistakable now what’s going on. He smirks and traces a finger over your lips. The pad of his index finger drags on your bottom lip slightly, turning your mouth into that pout he loved so much. He leans and kisses your cheek as you whine again.

“Please.”

He chuckles at how needy you sound even in your sleep, but at the same time, your voice has blood rushing to his cock while his head swirls with desire. He shifts his own hips, subtly pressing his erection against your ass. His eyes flutter at the minute pleasure. He grows more bold, and his hand rubs your hip before coasting up your side to your chest, giving your breast a gentle squeeze.

You whimper louder and squirm. He squeezes again softly while lowering his head to your neck to lay some tender kisses on the side of your throat. His palm leaves your tits and smooths down over your tummy in the direction of your shorts.

Cautiously, he maneuvers his hand past the waistband and dips into your panties. He cups your pussy, feeling the heat radiating off the area. A single finger slides between your folds in almost an exploratory touch. He feels your slick all over his digit. Clearly, this dream was a pretty good one.

He begins to use another finger, sliding the two up and down through your wetness. You roll onto your back, your breasts rising and falling as your breath gets heavier. Your thighs spread a little as if you subconsciously sensed his presence between your legs.

In your dreams, Leon was doing a lot more than rubbing you with his fingers. After you had fallen asleep, it felt like no time had passed. All of the sudden you were just on the table in your dining room, spread out for his rapture.

You didn’t realize you were dreaming, everything felt so real. To you, he was really there, looking down at you with those loving yet lecherous eyes. Hands roaming your exposed body, lips caressing your skin all over. Everything seemed light and airy while also feeling heavy and thick. Your head, filled with clouds, slipped in and out of the moment. The sensation of him rutting his cock between your thighs and sliding inside of you was your reality at the moment.

In actual reality, Leon continues to move his fingers slowly, swiping them over your entrance and taking them back up to circle your clit. You mewl when he applies some pressure, sending sparks through you. Your squirming becomes more motivated, and he can tell your drifting away from your restful sleep back toward consciousness.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice huskier with arousal this time around.

You hear his voice in your dreams. The deep rumble enters your ears as you envision his hips pistoning into your wanting cunt. You mumble something in response, but he can’t understand the sleepy babbling. He rubs your clit a little harder with some more speed. You twitch in response, yet your eyes remain closed.

“I know, baby. I know it feels so good,” he coos and kisses behind your ear.

More incoherent words fall from your mouth. He sucks love bites into your neck, and you tilt your head back, craving more of that feeling. The dream version of him began mimicking the actions of the real Leon as you neared waking.

Whining louder, your fingers dig into the smooth fur of your plush bunny before letting it go. He nips at the sensitive skin of your throat as his fingers travel down and push inside your heat.

The feeling rips a moan from you and causes your eyes to open. Your back arches as he works them deeper. Your hips wriggle a little as you make sense of what’s happening.

“Leon?” you whimper. Your sleepy eyes struggle to stay open after being torn from the fog of sleep.

“That’s right, baby. It’s just me. You were having some nice dreams, weren’t you, pretty girl?” he says.

“Mhm,” you hum mindlessly.

“About me?” he teases, eyes watching your body fidget with the pleasure you felt.

“About you,” you confirm before he leans down and kisses your lips. They were so soft against his own. He slowly moves his mouth with yours and languidly slides his tongue against yours.

You moan into the kiss as his fingers curl within you and hit your favorite spot. Your feet lightly kick at the sensation. Your hips rise a little as you feel the flood gates holding your release about to break.

You’re too sleepy to tell him out right, but he knows the signs. He keeps working you there until your body seizes and arches off the bed. You let out a throaty moan and turn your head to bury your face against his shoulder.

“There you go. Let it all out, sweetheart,” he whispers and kisses your head.

You ride out the high on his hand, and by the time you’re done, you’re ready to fall asleep again. Your mind is hazy with the fog of release. You’re drifting off as your body settles without even realizing it.

You’re only yanked back to reality by Leon scooping you up into his lap. He’s sitting with his back to the headboard, and he situates you between his thighs, back against his chest. His arms keep you caged in nice and close, safe and warm.

“Don’t fall asleep again just yet, babydoll,” he murmurs while kissing up your neck.

Your head lolls back against his shoulder. The fight to stay awake gets a little easier as his hand returns to your soaked panties. He doesn’t tease this time, just slides in two fingers and starts moving them in and out.

The new angle makes you squirm and whine, but he holds you tight in place with his free arm.

“Gotta work you open, honey. Can’t just slide my dick in you with no warm up,” he says with a smirk.

His voice pulls you towards lucidity a little more. Your hands wrap around his free arm for support while your hips instinctively roll into his blissful touch.

“I missed you,” you choke out between gasps and whimpers.

“I know you did,” he teases, grinning against your throat. His cock throbs against the small of your back as his ears latch onto the sound of your slick around his fingers. “Came home to cuddle with my sweet girl, and I find her having such dirty dreams.”

Your cheeks heat up as you start to piece together what had happened. You fully realize now that your escapade on the kitchen table was entirely in your mind. You feel embarrassed for a moment, but the feeling dies pretty quick as you rapidly approach the edge for a second time.

“Not my fault,” you whimper shyly.

He chuckles and kisses your temple once more. “I know it’s not. If anything, it’s mine. I think I’ve been neglecting my baby,” he says with a mocking lilt in his voice.

You cry out as his fingers brush against those same spots that brought you to the finish last time. Your hips twitch, and you grip his thighs as your peak rises within you. Moments later your cumming all over his fingers, sucking in a harsh breath as a second release courses through you, even more intense then the last.

His free arm keeps you secure against his chest while rubbing your side soothingly. The heel of his other palm roughly massages your clit as his fingers pump in and out.

“Good girl,” he coos, “That’s it, just one more and then I can put you to sleep how you deserve.”

As soon as you seem to be coming down, Leon lifts you up again, tugging your clothes off and moving your body around like a doll to get you in the position he wants. You were definitely more pliant after two orgasms, but you could also see how his training had been paying off. Maybe this new job wasn’t all bad.

He has you on your back now, thighs against your chest and knees hooked over his arms. Again, he had no patience to tease right now, so after pushing his sweats down to mid thigh, he takes his cock and slides it in you with no hesitation. He groans as your hole takes him in, your walls pulsing around him even after he bottoms out.

“So wet. I can just slide right in,” he mumbles as his own hips twitch.

Your eyes droop at the stretch. It always felt so satisfying, having him buried balls deep in you. As close as he could possibly be. No fear of him leaving or pain of being separated. You whine and reach up to pull him closer.

He follows along and rests his face against your neck as he begins thrusting. You hear him panting right in your ear. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there’ll be marks.

“Perfect pussy’s made for me,” he grunts while snapping his hips, “Miss it every second I’m not inside it.”

You nod lazily as you continue to clamp down around him. After two releases, you didn’t even feel a building ecstasy anymore, just a constant stream of pleasure.

“Leon,” you whine, “Harder. Wanna feel it.”

He moans at your plea but indulges you, grabbing you harder, pressing your legs higher, filling you deeper.

“Wanna be sore after, don’t you, sweetheart? Want a reminder of me while I’m at work. Something to tide you over till I can do this again. Won’t have to rely on dreams then, right?” he says.

“Yeah,” you whimper. Your bed creaks as he picks up the pace, but your moans mask the sound as they grow in volume.

He fucks into you over and over, stoking the flames within himself, trying to build to that explosion. You were so tight, so warm. He hums another low moan and whimpers softly as he feels it right there. He gasps softly before holding you tighter and muttering in your ear.

“Ready for another one, honey? Gonna be the last one and then we’ll get you comfy and off to sleep.”

“Yeah,” you moan again, unable to say much else.

“Good… good girl,” he moans before his hips buck wildly and he finally releases.

You finish for a third time. You cling to him tight as the euphoria washes over you again. Locking your legs around his hips, you keep your face pressed to the warm skin of his neck as it goes through you. You feel the hot flood of cum he fucks into you. His chest is heaving now too as he recovers from the high.

He stays on top of you for a moment before pulling out. You cling harder upon losing that full feeling. He smiles at your desire to be close to him and gives you one more kiss before sitting up.

“So sweet to me, baby. I hope that made up for the late night,” he whispers and strokes your hair.

“It did,” you say with a nod. Your eyes were already shutting again, ready to go back to sleep after being fucked so good.

He looks at you with all the love in the world as he pulls his sweats up. He then helps you pull your panties and shirt back on, trying to laugh at your sleepy, half-assed movements.

After that, he gets you all tucked in next to him, snuggled up in his arms like he originally intended. He even grabs that stuffed bunny he got you and fits it close to you in case you want it.

“Get some rest, honey. You need it,” he whispers while rubbing your back.

“Mhm,” you respond tiredly, “You too. You’re all mine for the weekend, and I don’t want you tired out the whole time.”

“Alright, but I’m gonna be tired out if we do some more of that again tomorrow,” he jokes. He pulls you close to him and shuts his eyes, nestling his head against yours and settling in to rest.

That puts a smile on your face and you nuzzle him once more before letting yourself fall asleep for the night.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut #smut

2K notes · View notes

godsandmonsters505 · 1 year

Text

Roll Like Thunder | Negan Smith

dbf!Negan Smith (The Walking Dead) x younger fem!reader

(AU where the apocalypse never happened)

Summary: Negan is your dad's best friend and the two of you settle some tension while on your family vacation.

Warnings (18+): age gap (reader is college age, maybe 20-ish, and Negan's age is not specified but I'm feeling early 50s), smut (fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v), possibility of getting caught, edging

Notes: this actually kinda turned out sweet in a way I think, which is surprising because that's not often an outcome when I write for Negan lmao. not proofread yet because I just wanted to get it out to you all asap, but will edit if needed when I get the chance. hope you enjoy!! (also the intro is kinda long oops)

Grabbing your glass of wine you take another much needed swig, cringing at your dad and uncle. They always find some way to turn every conversation into a political argument while the rest of your family eat their meals and exchange knowing glances

Family holidays were always like this. The one time a year when everyone was together: your parents, aunt, uncle and cousins. Only this year, there was a new addition.

Negan had grown up being a close friends with both your father and uncle and they are still best friends to this day. He recently went through a messy divorce and this is his first Christmas without his wife in a long time. Your dad never was good with showing kindness or friendship, but your uncle had convinced him it would be a good idea to invite him to his cabin for your annual Christmas getaway.

And that's how you got here.

You'd always had a little bit of a crush on Negan, for as long as you could remember. Though you never saw much of him as a kid. It wasn't until you got older - old enough to be able to drink in front of your parents - that you got to spend more time with him. Drinking was a big part of their social life, so once you could join in, you got to know him better. You got on well with your parents so you'd have barbeques with them and their friends, join in with conversations in the kitchen when they'd have people over, go out to dinner. But then you went off to college and started spending less and less time with them. So now it's Christmas time, you're happy to be able to spend time with your family. And Negan, more than you'd care to admit.

"Okay fellas," your mom chimes in. "Enough of that."

Negan makes eye contact with you from across the other side of the table and you smirk at each other. You're both all too familiar with watching this from an outside perspective.

"The food's delicious, Negan," she adds, turning to Negan, who had cooked this meal for you all. Sort of as a thank you for letting him tag along. For the first few days in the cabin he felt a little out of place, like he was intruding on your family's time together. But eventually he began to find himself settling. You were lucky to have a very fun, non-judgmental family so everyone was happy to have him there.

You nodded in agreement with your mother's statement. "I'd have more if there was any left." You motion to your empty plate.

"I'm glad it's got your approval, ladies," he grins.

The meal comes to an end and alcohol starts flowing. Your cousins are all younger than you so they head off to their bedrooms to do whatever it is kids their age do.

"I'd better get these dishes cleaned," Negan declares, standing up from his seat.

"No," you say, protesting. "You cooked. I'll clean."

"It's fine, you don't have to," he says kindly.

"I want to," you smile. "Really I'm happy to."

"We'll do them together?" He suggests, coming to a compromise and you nod in agreement.

"You raised a stubborn one," he mumbles teasingly to your dad, patting his shoulder as he walks past him.

"She gets that from me," your mom chirps as the two of you pick the plates up from the table and carry them into the kitchen.

Putting the plates on the kitchen top, you head to the fridge and look inside.

"Beer?" you ask, peeking around the door to look at Negan's response. Though you already have two cans in your hand, knowing he won't turn down the offer.

He nods. "Can't do anything without a drink in hand in this family, huh?"

You close the fridge door and pass him his beer, cracking open his own.

"You should be more than aware of that," you tease. "I've heard what you and my dad used to get up to."

"I'm sure you've not even heard the most of it," he teases back.

You laugh softly under your breath at his response.

"I'll wash, you dry?" You suggest as the sink begins to fill with soapy water.

The two of you get the dishes done relatively quickly as Negan tells you a story from his college days. You have to keep yourself composed and remember who he is. Remember that these stories he's telling of him at your age took place before you were even born. A decade before, at least. But, every so often, as you pass him the plates to dry, your fingers touch his and such a small motion has you weak. You can't look him directly in the eyes as he stands so close to you. That signature grin of his spread across his face.

The two of your finish and you take a large swig of your beer, but it's no surprise that the flush of alcohol doesn't help your body heat. You can only hope and pray that your cheeks aren't beetroot red right now.

"I'm sure you've got plenty of stories, though, right?" He asks. "Being in college and all. And with your dad's genes...God."

A playful smile spreads on your face. "Sure. I'm absolutely not telling you though. My dad would have a heart attack."

"Ahh," he smiles back. "So this whole 'good girl' thing is just an act, then?"

Holy shit. Good girl? He has no clue what he is doing to you calling you things like that.

"I can be good when it suits me." You say, almost flirtatiously, and immediately kick yourself. Why the hell would you say something like that to him?

Your off-the-cuff reply has him grinning. He swipes his tongue over his teeth as he contemplates your words and you almost drop to your knees.

"Let's go see what political debate has become the talking point now," you say, changing the topic to hide your complete embarrassment. You leave the kitchen and head to the living room, Negan following.

Somehow, in the time it took you to wash the dishes, your mom and aunt have gone through a bottle and a half of wine, and they're sat on the floor with your dad and uncle playing some sort of drinking game.

You sit down on the couch and Negan sits next to you. Why? Why could he not just sit away from you? Give you some space to compose yourself? But the action is completely innocent. There is just less than a foot between the two of you, yet it still feels like he is on top of you. Like you're breathing the same air.

"What was I just saying?" Negan says, nudging your arm with his elbow. "Alcohol."

You shake your head in playful disagreement with your relatives' actions.

"Hey, mom," you say and her head whips around, as laughter escapes her lips. "Think you've had enough for tonight?"

"Oh, you're so boring," she waves her hand at you dismissively.

The four of them continue for about half an hour as you and Negan observe and laugh. The game finally comes to an end when your aunt and uncle discreetly head off to their bedroom for a reason you don't even want to think about. Your parents follow shortly after, your dad having to carry your drunk mom up the stairs.

You come back from the kitchen where you were getting another lager for you and Negan. As you do so, you look for the TV controller and find a blanket that was lying around. You sit down again next to Negan and look down at your phone to check the time.

"God, it's not even 10 o'clock yet." You laugh.

"Amateurs," he says sarcastically.

You pass him his beer which he thanks you for, then get under you blanket.

"Want some?" You ask, holding out some excess blanket towards him.

"Sure," he accepts, getting comfortable himself.

The whole situation you're in is completely innocent, but it dawns on you that you're currently alone with Negan, tucked under the same blanket. Given that fact, you make a conscious effort not to touch him at all and try to remain composed.

"Put a movie on?" You ask him, passing the TV remote to him.

He takes it from your hand, brushing his fingertips across yours.

You watch him carefully as he selects a film to put on, making sure not to get caught admiring him. He just looks so good. The salt and pepper sprinkled throughout his hair and beard. The tattoos that cover his arms. The way his white t-shirt hugs his body just right. You're brought out of your thoughts when he speaks.

"You seen Batman Returns?" He asks, looking down at you.

"Of course," you smile. "It's a classic."

"Feel like watching it again?"

You nod. You'll watch whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants.

"Absolutely," you answer. "I didn't peg you as a Batman kind of guy, to be honest."

"Like you say, it's a classic," he says. "Plus there's always Michelle Pfeiffer."

You laugh at him. "I feel you."

You polish off another beer as you watch the film. You try your best to pay attention, to keep your eyes open, but you grow increasingly tired. It must have only been fifteen minutes into the film when you finally drift off, reality slipping away.

When you wake up again, it takes a while to fully gain consciousness, You feel something under you head, under your arm, but you don't pay much attention to it.

You feel warm. Comfortable. You don't want to wake up, you could stay here forever. The smell of men's shampoo and cologne comforts you, a soft material under the touch of your hand.

All of a sudden reality dawns on you. You realise that your head is leaning on a shoulder. That your hand is draped across a torso. You shoot up, sitting upright and see Negan smiling at you softly through slightly hooded eyes.

"Oh God," you say, feeling incredibly humiliated. "I'm sorry." But he just chuckles.

You look over to the television and see a black screen.

"Did the movie finish?" You ask groggily and he nods. Fuck. You slept for the entire duration of the film and who knows how much of that time you spent laying on Negan's shoulder.

What you're only just realising now, though, is how close you're still sat to him. How even though you're sat up, Negan's shoulder is casually draped across the back of the sofa, dangerously close to your shoulder blades.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" You ask, feeling flushed.

"You looked peaceful." He answers, honestly. "Didn't want to disrupt you."

"I'm sorry," you apologize again. "You should've woken me up."

"I didn't mind, sweetheart." He insists. "Honestly."

The pet name drives you utterly insane. As if this whole thing wasn't already enough. Your body feels so hot. What with the blanket, his body heat, your arousal.

"I will say though, you do talk quite a bit in your sleep," he smiles coyly and dread shoots through your entire body.

"Wh-what-" you can't even get a full sentence out. "What did I-"

A flash of a dream comes back to you in that moment. Oh God. Oh God, no. You can't remember the details, but you remember the feeling. Negan on top of you. His body weight on you. The ecstasy you felt. His hands on your body. His name slipping from your lips.

You had a sex dream about Negan while you were laying on his Goddamn shoulder. You're lost for words, but Negan is enjoying watching this play out. He bites his lip, trying to suppress his smug grin as he watches you realise the possibilities of what you might have said.

His arm slowly slips off the back of the sofa and creeps around to touch you, the movement making you flinch a little. What is he doing?

He takes his other hand and places two fingers just under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The two of you make eye contact and you can't even contemplate what is happening - still a little groggy from your nap - before his lips are coming down gently on yours.

You kiss him back almost immediately. It's a surprising delicate and intimate kiss, and you daringly bring your hand up to his neck to pull him in deeper, but he pulls back.

You worry that he is having second thoughts, but the look in his eyes says the complete opposite. He just wants to get a good look at you before he tears you apart. You feel vulnerable under his hungry eyes but you love how it makes you feel.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath before your lips join again, this time the kiss rougher. More passionate. His arms wrap around your back to pull your body snug to his and you intwine your fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly. His large hands snake further down and grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. As you get comfortable you shift along his length and gasp, feeling that he is already hard.

"You were practically fucking dry humping me in your sleep," he chuckles. "You can't blame me."

"So that's why you didn't want to wake me up, then?" You're barely able to mumble, teasing him.

"Hmm, maybe." You can feel him smile into the kiss and it makes you want him more. Everything about him is so endearing. He just radiates this warmth, this aura, and it's radiating.

Even now, however, you're nervous to move things along. You know what you want but this is still so surreal, and it would be an understatement to say you feel a little intimidated in this moment. You have enough sexual experience, but this is Negan. This is different. So you're glad when he takes control and begins to lift up your top, pulling it over your head to expose your bra.

His mouth makes contact with the flesh of your chest, sucking and nipping while he reaches around to unhook your bra. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your bare breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth immediately as his warm hands roam and caress your back, travelling over your smooth skin.

As you start to subconsciously grind into his bulge, Negan continues to explore your breasts. You're looking for any kind of relief and you begin to find some as he presses up into you, but both of your pants are restricting you.

You feel yourself crumbling further and further as Negan's hands come around to aid him with his attention to your breasts, squeezing and practically groaning as he does so. The noise changes something inside you, and makes you realise that you need him stripped of his clothes right this second.

You grasp the bottom of his shirt and he briefly pulls away from you to allow you to move it, but the second you're done, his lips are back on your skin, leaving marks on your collarbone and neck. Next, you move onto the buckle of his belt but he swats your hand away.

Pulling back from the kiss, you look to him with wide eyes full of confusion. That look alone is nearly enough to cause him to fold and fuck you right then and there. But he has other plans.

"Be patient for me, honey," he says sweetly, and as badly as you want him, you trust him.

He pulls your body flush to his, so that your breasts are pressed entirely against the heat of his chest. Then he grips your lower back and stands up, holding you tightly.

"We can't do this here," he says, carrying you towards the stairs. You grind up against him playfully as he does so and he stops momentarily half way up the stairs, clearly affected by the action. In retaliation he gently swats your ass and you giggle at his response.

"Shh," he hushes, but he can't hide the grin that spreads across his face as you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

Being as quiet as possible, he takes you into his bedroom which - awkwardly - is across the hall from your parents' room.

He puts you down on the bed, barely allowing himself to be away from you for a second, climbing on top of you hastily. He goes back to kissing you, the taste of him intoxicating. The way he kisses are gentle yet so hot and passionate at the same time, becoming increasingly sloppy as they shift from your lips to your jaw, neck, chest, abdomen, until you're a writhing mess beneath him.

Once he has kissed so far that he reaches the waist line of your trousers, he unbuttons them and pulls them all the way down. He throws them onto the floor, leaving you just in your lace black panties. He nudges your legs open and moves his kisses to your thigh. He's slowly breaking you and you're not sure how much more you can take. Painstakingly slow, he trails his tongue up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your panties.

Eventually he slips your panties off and you tremble as you feel the cool air of his room against your hot, aching core. He places his hands on your inner thighs to push them open further, mouth watering at the sight of you. The delicate touch of his fingers send shivers up your spine and you're in desperate need of more.

"Please, Negan," you say, barely a croak.

"Shh, let me take care of you," he soothes, his voice low and gravelly as he tries his best to stay quiet. "Wanted to taste this sweet pussy for so long."

As if to affirm his words, he lowers his head and licks a stripe straight through your folds, groaning as he feels how wet you are.

He then moves his mouth to make contact with your clit, your hips raising at the action. He starts off by sucking gently, leaving you aching for more as you reach down to grab his hair, not knowing what else to do. He chuckles as you do so and sends vibrations straight through your core. Unable to control yourself, a moan escapes you lips and he squeezes your thighs warningly, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.

He takes his time to precisely pull you apart, but then his motions begins to get harsher, faster. You feel that rising feeling in the pit of your stomach begin to spread after waiting for what feels like so long. He alternates between kissing, sucking, licking, nipping until you're desperate for more. Sensing this, he teases one finger at your entrance.

"Please," you whimper, legs trembling. He answers your pleading by pushing his single digit inside you in one long push, as deep as he can go, and keeping it there momentarily. As he continues to eat you out, he begins moving his finger, fucking you gently. When he adds a second finger you have to clasp your hand over your own mouth to stop yourself from calling out his name. Your legs wrap around his head, wanting to pull him closer to you in any way possible.

Closing your eyes, you feel that white hot feeling flooding through your veins, but right as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls his fingers out and his mouth away from you.

You let out a guttural sound, one of desperation which causes Negan to laugh under his breath.

"Negan, God, please," you whine, putting both your hands on his head and pushing him back down.

"So bossy," he mumbles with a smile on his face, but he obliges.

He doesn't use his fingers on you again, but it makes no difference. You're already pent up enough as it is that it won't take a lot to make you reach your peak. Plus, you don't doubt that Negan's skillful mouth is more than enough for you.

He circles his tongue around your clit, going back to sucking while using his free fingers to absentmindedly trace little patterns into your thighs. The only noises are your heavy pants and the wetness of his mouth against you, and it fills the otherwise deadly silent bedroom.

He's starting to become more familiar with your body and your reactions and he can tell you're getting close again. To which he stops and pulls away yet again.

"Negan," you almost cry. Tears prick in the corners of your eyes as you throb for him. "Please, I need to-"

"I got you baby," he assures you, stroking the flesh of your thighs comfortingly.

You can't bare it. You almost despise him for doing this to you, but you can't. It's all so surreal: having this man between your thighs. So often you have fantasized of it and though it's so wrong, it's now happening.

Before you can beg again, his lips make contact with you. This time he's a man on a mission. His tongue flicks against your clit as two of his fingers slip back inside you. You're so wet that it's an easy motion, but you still feel the tight, delicious stretch. He allows you to get used to it, building you up until he adds a third finger and you have to use all your power not to yell out his name. You try your hardest not to hurt Negan by squeezing your thighs too much or pulling his hair too hard, but he loves it. He loves driving you crazy, seeing you unwind for him. The noises you make. The taste of you.

Relentlessly, he penetrates you with his fingers, pushing and curling his fingers deep inside you, hitting a spot that eventually brings you your release. One last push, one last flick of his tongue and you're falling over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can't help the animalistic sound that leaves you as white flashes behind your eyelids. He continues eating you out through your orgasm and it hits you that you think you're doing something you never have before.

Once you manage to come around again, you let your legs relax and look down to Negan who looks up at you. He smiles smugly, your wetness remaining in his beard and it causes you to go weak in the knees.

"Did I just-?" Squirt, you want to say. But somehow it doesn't seem like the nicest word to describe what just happened between of the two.

He nods with a glimmer in his eyes as he makes his way up the bed, his body above yours.

"I've never-" you croak. "I've never done that before."

"You just needed a man, that's all," he gloats and you roll your eyes. "It was hot as fuck, for what it's worth."

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself on him.

You're still shaking a little, but you manage to pull back a little to look him in his eyes.

"Are we really doing this?" You ask, bordering on timid.

"Do you want to?" He counters.

"Yes," you say, quickly, not wanting him to think you're having doubts. Because there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that you want the man above him. Hell, you need him. But somehow you find yourself feeling a little insecure and needing reassurance. "Do you?"

"Darling," he laughs. "Not to be crude, but you just came all over my face. I want this more than you know."

You nod and smile, feeling more confident. "I'm sorry, I just-"

He interrupts your babbling with a long kiss to your lips, silencing you.

"You need to worry less," he says, bringing his hand to stroke your cheek sweetly.

"Make me." You propose flirtingly, smiling up at him.

"That I can do." His lips crash down on yours and his tongue intertwines with yours.

Reaching down to his pants you fumble with his zip, which he helps your shaky hands undo. He shifts both his pants and boxers down off his ankles, and though you can't see his length fully from this angle, you can feel its hardness press against your lower stomach and he feels big.

"You ready, baby?" He raises his brow at you as he grips his member and teases it through your folds.

"Yes, please Negan," you pant, even after having the best orgasm of your life, you still need more. "Need you inside me."

He groans as he slips inside of you and the way you practically beg for him drives him crazy.

"So fucking tight, holy shit," he mumbles into your ear, his head dropping down to bite and suck on the crook of your neck. "Oh, baby, fuck."

Hearing him say such obscene things affects you in an indescribable way. His voice has always been massively attractive to you, but now...you're done for. The deep rumble, smooth like honey, even lower in an attempt to remain quiet to your family in the surrounding bedrooms. It's like dark magic. It has you hooked. He could say the right thing to you with that voice and you'd cum right there and then.

His movements are slow, savoring the sensation of you around him. He wants to take his time with you. He never wants it to be over.

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his back and lift your hips up wanting more from you. He maintains his pace, but does start pushing deeper inside you like you wanted.

"I've wanted you for so long," you say, not even in control of your words anymore. It's like he's fucking them right out of you. He moans into your neck at your admission and starts thrusting a little faster, as if in response to your statement.

"Do you know-" he stops speaking for a moment to breathe and compose himself, clearly enjoying this as much as you, "how often I get myself off thinking about you?" He punctuates his point with a particularly hard thrust and that - in combination with the idea of him masturbating to the thought of you - causes you to cry out. You thought he would shush you, but he seems too far gone at this point.

"A fucking pretty little thing like you," he says, his hands groping at your tits, his touch rougher than before, "it'd be hard not to."

"Oh god," you whimper. "Harder, please."

His movements get harsher gradually, following your command and getting you closer and closer every second.

He lifts his head up and the way he looks at you makes your insides collapse. To be the sole object of his attention. How he looks at you like you're all that ever mattered.

"I'm so close, Negan," you tell him.

"Taking me so fucking well, darling," he praises, reaching one hand down to lazily play with your clit. That's all it takes and he can feel it coming as you begin to squeeze around him. He takes your lips in a long, sensual kiss as you climax, trying to muffle your moans as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands are wrapped around his back, squeezing into his shoulders as you try your hardest to be quiet. Pure pleasure surges through your veins as he presses his entire body weight into you: suffocating in the most beautiful way possible.

Gradually, Negan's movements come to a halt and he stops moving inside you briefly, letting go of you come down from your high.

"You're gonna be the fucking death of me," he declares and before you can reply, he suddenly starts moving inside you again, faster than the last time, placing a quick peck on the tip of your nose as he does so.

He soon reaches a pace much faster than before and you're rendered speechless.

Your attention is grabbed, however, by the open and shut of a door somewhere. You gasp and your eyes widen at the sound. The possibilities of who it could be and if they'd heard you start to race through your mind but your thoughts are cut off when Negan clasps a hand firmly over your mouth to keep you quiet. He presses you further into the mattress as he fucks you even harder than before, enjoying tormenting you.

You listen closely to the footsteps. They're quite loud - that of a man - probably your dad or uncle. The pitter patter grows closer and your heard races, both from the fear of getting caught and from the sensation of Negan deep inside you. Hitting places you're sure no other man ever has or ever could. You relax a little as you hear the footsteps pass Negan's bedroom and head into the shared bathroom, the door closing afterwards.

Negan takes his hand off your mouth and you gasp for air.

"Oh my god, please don't stop," you beg as he sets a pace and sticks with it, snaking his slender fingers back down to your clit and circling it gently.

"I don't plan on," he chimes. "You're taking me so well."

You've never felt anything like this. Your entire body is numb and slick with sweat. All you can do is grab onto his hair and try your best to lift your hips to meet his thrusts.

To help you out, he grabs your body and switches positions slightly. He lifts himself up then clutches your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders. Then his hands grip onto your hips and he has access to you in a way that allows him to go much deeper. You know you can't take much more. You're close to crying just from how much you want to scream his name.

Your eyes keep fluttering shut but you force them opening, wanting to keep them on the man doing this to you. His tousled hair, his flexed biceps, his tattooed chest.

"Harder, please," you whisper. "I'm nearly there."

Thrusting harder, he also adds his fingers back to your clit, rubbing harshly. It's almost painful on your sensitive nerves but it feels unreal and it's enough to build you up to near-ecstasy.

Your mouth hangs open but you refrain from making any noise. In one unexpected motion, he lands a slap to your clit and it sends your orgasm rushing.

"Good girl, that's it," he guides you through as your body starts to spasm.

He continually pounds into you and turns his head to the side to place soft kisses to your inner thigh, contrasting the way he now ruthlessly moves inside of you.

You contract around him as you cum and you can tell he is trying his hardest to hold on as he visibly hesitates, not knowing where to release.

"Cum inside me, Negan," you give permission. "Want it so bad."

Those words were all he needed as he spills inside you, the warm liquid filling you.

Gradually, his movements slow down as he fucks you through the both of your orgasms, fucking his cum deeper inside you, and then pulls out and collapses next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder and to your surprise, he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Holy shit," you giggle, the whole situation setting in.

Negan's about to speak but his sentence stops forming when the bathroom door opens and closes again. You'd completely forgot about that.

The two of you exchange a glance as you wait for the footsteps to disappear down the hallway. Once they're gone, you relax back into his embrace.

Absentmindedly, you place your hand on Negan's warm chest, tracing the ink of his tattoos. Its surprisingly comforting having him this close, to be held by him. You're entranced by the smell of his cologne and the way his chest heaves up and down, catching his breath. He smiles as he watches you, equally as entranced by you. He can't quite believe that the daydreams he thought were exactly that - daydreams - have come to life.

"We'll have to do this again," he grins coyly, "some place where you can scream my name as loud as you need to." His hands run over your body, cupping your breasts as if to appreciate as much of you as possible.

"I'd like that," you smile back, snuggling into his arms. You know you can't stay here all night, but you'll appreciate it for as long as possible.

#negan fic #negan x reader #negan twd #negan smut #negan smith #the walking dead fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan smut #jeffrey dean morgan #negan smith smut

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thealternateuniverse · 5 months

Text

How did you handle it?

1st part here

A/N: Didn't expect the number of likes on the first part, thank you so much 😭

Also, I know now who does Paige's braids now. I saw her on tiktok.

Warning/s: Read at your own risk

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Following Ice's most recent live stream, Y/N's phone is constantly vibrating, and her Instagram feed is overflowing with follow requests and mentions. She didn't leave her apartment on the weekends after hearing from her teammates about their near-brawl on Friday night. She was trying to blow off some steam at the time, but she lost her cool and almost got into it. Azzi gave them a good earful, and Geno had more to say. Y/N apologized to her teammates, explaining that she was acting out of character at the time.

She felt a little better and forgot about her parents' divorce for a while. Not until her father texted her that he will be at her game next week. Dad is always the one who comes to her games; mom is too busy and cannot make time.

Frustrated, Y/N drops the dumbels.

"Yo! "KK, give me back my phone!" KK is running for her life, clutching Paiges' phone. Paige, on the other hand, looks terrified as if her life depends on with whatever is contained within her phone.

"Whaaaat! Dude, I just caught you stalking---asfghgjjhkjlhlk!" Paige caught up with KK and placed her palm on her mouth.

"Shut up!" She took her phone.

KK sounds like a dying goat now, with Paige's hands still on her mouth. Paige lets go of her and KK gasped for air.

"Shit, Hah! I just did not saw you do that P!" KK is shaking her head, laughing.

"I swear K, if you open your mouth I'll make sure that you will nev---" KK immediately zipped her mouth.

"You got it P! Your 'lil secret is safe." KK gave her a mischievous wink.

These two are as mischievous as ever.

Shaking her head, Y/N slips off her sweat-soaked muscle top, revealing only her sports bra. She could see Paige and KK's jaws drop from her peripheral vision. She turned towards them.

"What? "You guys have some saliva here." Y/N pointed to the side of her lip. The two appear to have come to their senses and instantly pretend to do something. Weird. It's as if they're seeing each other for the first time, taking off their clothes. Y/N twisted her hair into a sloppy knot and resumed lifting. She was halfway through lifting when Nika slapped her bum.

"Babe, I need you to braid my hair. Do you have a sec?"

She nodded to Nika and followed her. They walk past the others who were working out, and Y/N couldn't help but notice Paige and the way her biceps and deltoids popped while doing that damn pull up. Get a grip, Miller; you see your teammate doing this on a regular basis. Y/N reprimanded herself.

"So is mine eye enthralled by thy shape," Nika recited dramatically.

Nika came out laughing after noticing Y/N glancing at Paige.

"Don't worry, babe; she gets it a lot. And... Damn, did you just realized she's fine? You have to keep up; you have a home court advantage here." Nika winked. Y/N gave Nika a puzzled glance. It's not that she likes Paige; she just admires the muscles. That is it.

"I don't know what you're talking about, babe." Y/N said making Nika snort.

"Okay, alright. I'm blind, I can't see, must be my poor eyesight."

Y/N endured Nika's teasing while doing her hair; she doesn't want to appear defensive, so she allows her friend and pretends that Nika Muhl seeing her looking at Paige Bueckers didn't affect her.

"Thank you, Baby. "I love the braids." Nika blew her a kiss before they returned to their routines.

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

Paige glanced around cautiously before scrolling through her phone. She couldn't afford to repeat the same mistake that had led to her being caught by KK. She wasn't stalking, though; the algorithm following Ice's live had led her to Y/N's tagged photos and edits on Instagram. It was kind of annoying that Y/N was now known for being the "pretty girl" from the team instead of for her talent as a player. Paige had witnessed firsthand how great Y/N was during her time at Stanford. If it weren't for her MCL injury during her second year, she would have been neck and neck with Nika's stats in the last 2022-2023 conference.

"Girly, you are still not done? Man you are really living up to be a stalker ." KK tried to glance at Paige's phone, Paige was quick to hide it.

"I am not!" Paige responded defensively.

"Of course, why stalk when you can see her every day. Home court advantage." KK playfully raised her brows and gestured towards where Y/N is, shooting 3 point shots. Yeah, Paige mused to herself. Paige knows she's got the home court advantage, always playing on familiar turf. Y/N, on the other hand, is a social media ghost, her posts as rare as a shooting star, reserved only for strategic brand alliances. Just like she guards the offensive players on the court, she protects her privacy with the same intensity, keeping her personal life shrouded in mystery.

"You are not gonna like this." KK's gasp breaks the silence, drawing Paige's attention as she leans in, sharing her latest sports article discovery. With rapt interest, they both delve into the words, their silent communion speaking volumes as they absorb every line, lost in the world of sports unfolding before them.

Sports Agent Katherine Taylor-Miller Entangled in New Romance Amidst Divorce

In a whirlwind of events, sports agent Katherine Taylor-Miller finds herself at the center of media attention following news of her divorce from husband Craig Miller. The prominent figure in the sports world, best known for representing basketball star Breanna Stewart, is reportedly embarking on a new romance with Los Angeles' top firm lawyer, Drew Ross.

While Taylor-Miller has remained tight-lipped about the circulating photos online, indicating her involvement with Ross, sources close to the situation confirm that the divorce proceedings are well underway. The couple, who share a daughter, aged 22, are navigating this transition as their family dynamic shifts.

Adding a layer of complexity to the situation, their daughter, a talented athlete in her own right, has been making waves on the collegiate basketball scene. Initially playing for Stanford University during her freshman and sophomore years, she has recently transferred to the University of Connecticut for her junior year, following in the footsteps of her mother's client, Breanna Stewart.

The unfolding saga has captivated both sports enthusiasts and gossip followers alike, as speculation mounts about the implications for Taylor-Miller's career and personal life. As the situation continues to develop, all eyes remain on the high-profile sports agent and her newfound path forward.

Paige's confusion bubbles to the surface in her question. "Wait, so... that is Y/N's mom?"

KK nods solemnly. "Yep. Didn't expect that."

Paige's brow furrows as she scans the article again. "That article is nasty. It was unnecessary to mention, Y/N."

The two exchange a knowing glance before their gaze shifts towards Y/N, who remains blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the tabloids.

KK weighs the options for a moment before nodding resolutely. "Very. She's not gonna like it. Do we tell her?" KK's gaze seeks approval from Paige, who meets it with a shake of her head, silently acknowledging the delicate situation and opting to shield Y/N from unnecessary distress for now. "She'll find out sooner."

KK lets out a low whistle, her disbelief evident in her tone. "Unbelievable. I never thought her mom is Katherine Taylor. That woman was a badass, but yeah, whoever wrote this has some unpaid rent due." Paige nods in agreement, a hint of frustration tainting her expression as they both recognize the injustice of the situation.

The sudden thud startles both Paige and KK. Their heads snap towards the source of the sound, only to find Y/N on the bench-side taking a water break, her hand suspended and her phone on the floor.

"That's what we're talking about."

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

Y/N absentmindedly follows her teammates to Subway after they decided to grab some lunch there. Despite the buzz of camaraderie around her, she's lost in her own thoughts, savoring the simple pleasure of a break from today's events. Just as she starts to believe her day couldn't get any better, her world is rocked by the unwelcome intrusion of her parents' divorce being publicized.

Her heart sinks as she grapples with the sudden exposure of her family's private turmoil. Y/N has always been fiercely protective of her personal life, preferring to keep it shielded from prying eyes. The earlier article had already crossed a line, but this latest development feels like a betrayal of trust, a violation of the boundaries she holds sacred. She can't help but feel a surge of anger and frustration at the unnecessary intrusion into her family's affairs, a bitterness that threatens to overshadow the sweetness of her teammates' company.

Y/N finds a glimmer of solace in the silent solidarity of her teammates. As they gather around the table at Subway, not a single word is spoken about the tumultuous news that has shaken her world.

In that moment, Y/N feels a profound gratitude wash over her, a deep appreciation for their unspoken understanding and respect for her boundaries.

"The salad won't eat itself," snapped Paige, jolting Y/N from her deep thoughts. Y/N mechanically took a fork, but her salad remained untouched.

"Eat up, Miller. You need your energy." Paige commandeered the fork and began mixing the salad for Y/N.

"How did you handle it?" Y/N's voice trembled with vulnerability, causing Paige to pause mid-stir.

Paige didn't respond immediately, her mind racing to grasp the depth of Y/N's question. It didn't take long for the realization to sink in—it was about the divorce.

"When your parents divorced? How did you handle it?" Y/N's eyes glistened with unshed tears, a vulnerability she hadn't intended to reveal. Paige felt a pang of empathy twist in her gut. Y/N's question caught her off guard.

"Nevermind," Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she wiped away the threatening tears. Determinedly, she finally began to eat her salad, hoping to distract herself from the emotional turmoil of the day.

As she savored each bite, Y/N made a conscious effort to push aside the weight of her parents' divorce. Her phone buzzed incessantly with texts and calls, but she only mustered the strength to respond to her dad via text. All she wanted was for their divorce to be finalized so they could all move forward with their lives.

Her thoughts drifted to the inevitable changes ahead. Her mom and dad would each go their separate ways, free to pursue new relationships if they so chose. While the idea of their family no longer being whole was a painful one, Y/N knew it was time to accept reality.

Above all, she yearned for one simple request: no more articles portraying her solely as her mother's daughter. She was determined to forge her own path, to carve out her own identity separate from her family's legacy.

-------

"You okay, babe?" Nika asked Y/N, slinging her arm around her shoulders. Y/N responded with her most convincing smile. "I'm fine," she assured Nika, though the skepticism lingered in her friend's nod. "Just so you know, we're here for you, okay?" Nika offered a comforting hug. "Thanks, babe."

As they strolled back to the university after lunch, Nika, Azzi, and Aaliyah had already forged ahead for their afternoon classes, while Paige had disappeared into god knows where. Y/N's afternoon lay open; no classes to attend. She pondered whether to take a stroll around her apartment's neighborhood or indulge in a swim in the pool.

Waving goodbye to her teammates as they reached the university's parking lot, she contemplated driving back home.

Sighing, Y/N parked her car and headed towards her apartment, only to be surprised by a waiting Paige Bueckers holding a pint of Ben & Jerry's chocolate fudge ice cream.

"Paige, don't you have a class or something?" Y/N asked, noticing Paige still in her training attire: a UConn Huskies hoodie, basketball jersey shorts, socks, and slides.

Paige handed her the pint without saying anything.

"You asked me how I handled my parents' divorce," Paige shrugged.

"W-well forget it. I didn't mean to ---"

"It was hard. I thought we were a happy family, that they had vows, through thick and thin, for better or worse type of shit. I was angry, wondering what could possibly make them decide they weren't meant for each other. They had me for Christ's sake. It hurt to think that one day they'd meet someone new and start over, and what about me if that happens?" Paige took a deep breath before continuing.

"The good thing is, I was able to understand that it's better to have that divorce than to pretend they're still happy. I saw how happy my father is with his new family, happier than he was with my mother... All I'm trying to say is, whatever you feel in your current situation is valid—all the thoughts running in your head, the what-ifs, they're all valid. You'll come to terms with it soon, just give yourself time to feel it. And don't forget, you have us. It sucks to be a divorce child if you don't have siblings. It's okay, Miller. You can mope, you can lash out, feel it all the way."

Y/N burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, surprising Paige, especially considering they were in a parking lot. Y/N didn't know why the floodgates had opened—was it the news of her parents' divorce? The stress of the article? Or perhaps simply the ice cream? Regardless, she found herself releasing all the pent-up emotions.

"Christ, Miller. I didn't expect you to break down right here," Paige panicked, attempting to pacify her, though Y/N continued crying loudly.

Paige gently grabbed her hand, and together they walked towards Y/N's apartment, Y/N still sobbing loudly.

"People will think I made you cry." Paige said shaking her head.

They entered Y/N's apartment, with Paige leading the way as Y/N was too preoccupied at the moment. Paige settled Y/N on her couch and opened the ice cream she had brought. Y/N accepted it and took a spoonful, still teary-eyed.

Paige looked at her friend in disbelief, finding her oddly cute in this vulnerable state, with red, glistening eyes and puffy cheeks from crying.

They sat in silence, letting the ice cream provide comfort. It worked, as Y/N's tears eventually ceased.

"Thank you, Bueckers. I needed that cry and... the ice cream. How can I ever pay you back?" Y/N leaned her head on Paige's shoulder, grateful it was Paige who knew her favorite ice cream flavor.

Paige pretended to ponder the question. "You don't have to. Just get back to being yourself," she said, gently ruffling Y/N's hair. Y/N sighed in contentment.

"I mean it, though. Thank you for being here. I was resigned to being miserable today," Y/N said, her voice filled with gratitude. They exchanged glances, and Paige found herself momentarily lost in Y/N's mesmerizing eyes. There was something about them that drew her in. She quickly looked away, not wanting to get too carried away and do something she shouldn't.

"Yeah, it's nothing. Get yourself together, Miller," Paige replied, more to herself than to Y/N, feeling her ears grow warm.

"Are you okay? You seem... red?" Y/N asked, noticing Paige's flushed cheeks.

"Not as red as you are. You look ugly when you cry, Y/N," Paige remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N stiffened at the comment. This was the first time she had heard Paige address her by her first name. The surprise on Y/N's face caused Paige's brows to furrow.

"What?" Paige asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Nothing, you've never called me by my name before. Or maybe you did, I just didn't hear you," Y/N shrugged, trying to downplay it. She didn't want to make Paige feel awkward.

"I just don't know what to feel hearing it from you. It sounds different," Y/N admitted.

Paige choked on her response, caught off guard by Y/N's vulnerability. This woman will be the death of her one day. -----------------

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #kk arnold #nika muhl #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #paige bueckers x reader

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fillinforlater · 1 year

Text

Eleven to One: Hate You Lots

Male Reader x Ahn Yujin, Kim Minju, Kim Chaewon

Length: 7440 words

Tags: Daddy kink, perverted family, nudist kink, submission, kneeling, good girls, blow job, double blow job, deepthroating, face fuck, training, cursing, public, undressing, degradation, insulting, hate sex, someone calls you out on your weird behavior, sex in front of others, hair pulling, riding, bad sex, Chaewon is bad at sex, mentions of 2Kim, body licking, passionate kissing, maybe mind break?, cowgirl, fingering, dangerous sex, Yujin sells out her friend kekw

TW: hate sex, cursing, extreme Daddy kinks; Disclaimer: no, I don't believe you can turn gay people straight, ffs, I hope no one thinks that, and if you do, kindly turn on your brain or go away lol

Credit: @sooyadelicacies for co-writing

Inspiration: The big horny; also, someone has to oppose this crazy family kink/idea xD

(A/N: editing is not that great as is my health rn. Stay safe and healthy out there, everyone. Let's continue this fucked up saga with a crazy part and multiple scenes ;D)

“Daddy, you need to hurry up!”

Yujin stands in the kitchen door and bops up and down like an excited puppy. She’d surely swing her tail around wildly if she were a dog, but that is besides the point. You’re still tired from stressful phone calls the night before. Doesn’t help that it’s still very early in the morning. If the sun hasn’t bothered showing up yet, why should you.

"Do we have to go watch this performance? They film these things so early all the time," you groan in annoyance and sip at your coffee.

"Daddy, please?” Yujin begs with folded hands and sparkling eyes. “It will be so nice to see Chaewon and Sakura perform again. I really like their new song and you will too!"

When Yujin plays nice, it means she really wants something. This is close to a girl asking her Daddy for something—this comes too close to all the family stuff she has you fantasizing about lately. Try not to spit out your coffee and frantically wave your hand.

"Fine, we'll go. But I expect some pleasure when we get home,” you add with raised eyebrows and Yujin winks. “I have yet to meet Chaewon. Everyone describes her as lovable."

"Chaewon-unnie won't disappoint you. She sure is loveable. However, I think that she is showing new sides to herself."

"Sure, whatever. I'll set Hyewon up to go to the meeting then."

"Thank you so much, Daddy."

"Now look for a nice dress," you say, eyes roaming Yujin’s pajama-covered curves, "Only I get to see you like this."

"Of course, Daddy. I always wear outfits just for you… I think you'll like today's too."

Yujin starts to undress. The dress is still in her room, but the pajamas fall off her slender figure already. You can never get enough of this extraordinary sight. You might be a bit pressed for time, but as you look over your naked Yujin, your lust gets the better of you.

"I want you now, baby girl. Call for Minju too. No reason you two shouldn't be sucking my cock right now."

Yujin turns around on her heel and immediately kneels on the floor. Her hands rest idly on her lap and she gives you a hellish, seductive grin before calling out her former bandmates name:

"Minju-unnie~ come here a-s-a-p."

You hear steps coming from further down the floor. They are not normal steps, but rather from someone who was caught by surprise and stumbles towards you. A faint creak, Minju rushes from the bathroom to you and she quickly stops right next to Yujin. You eye the fresh make-up on her cheeks and light lipstick on her luscious lips. Sadly, you can't eye her naked body in all its glory, because she tries to cover most of it with her hands.

"Y-yes, Yujinie?" Minju asks shyly, trying not to stare down at Yujin’s immaculate body too much.

"I think Daddy wants something~"

Yujin's eyes narrow and she begins to stick out her tongue to show lots of drool pooling on it. She gradually crawls towards you, sticking out her bubble butt and shaking with blatant want. She is giving it her all to be desirable, submissive and still punishable.

"Wh-what does Daddy need?" Minju asks kindly and turns to you. Make-up or not, her cheeks are rosy from embarrassment. She is still, even after a couple of weeks, not used to being in full nude before you, although she committed so willingly after you made her yours.

You grab the hand covering Minju's pussy while Yujin finally reaches your tight pants and rubs her cheek onto the bulge with a purr. Yujin's fingers play with your zipper while yours play with Minju's clit. You flick it lightly once, then rougher. Tears glisten and sparkle in narrow eyes, and you look deeply into the mess Minju is slowly becoming. However, her arm still crosses her chest and hides her breasts.

"Daddy needs you, Minju, because you are his. I think we agreed on this, so show me your amazing body."

Her labia is wet to the touch, thus inserting a finger is easy. Minju tenses up for a second, but when you kiss her cheek, she relaxes and you plunge two more fingers into her. She screams out, but you plug her mouth the same way: three digits, hilt deep in a wet hole of hers. It’s like pushing all the right buttons to deactivate Minju’s resolve. Her arm falls from her chest. Finally, she is a bare feast for you.

"You can do better, Minmin," you say with a slight sigh of disappointment at the end. Your fingers move in and out of Minju faster and faster. In the meantime, Yujin takes a long ass time to free your length. It's probably because you are focused not on her but on teaching Minju a lesson, but this is no reason to keep you waiting. Yujin has no right to deny you your pleasure, yet she still finds ways to subtly tease you.

Remove your fingers from Minju's mouth and let her moan and whimper freely as she begins to grind on your deeply buried digits that twist and turn inside her hot walls. With your now free hand, you pull out your cock, much to Yujin's surprise, and slap it across her face. It's a shame that you have to give them a small punishment before you can get to the main course, but it's also not bad. Training puppies is more fun than you ever thought.

"I-I'm so-sorry, Daddy," Minju cries out and falls to her knees. It’s the only way to escape your fingers, however, it’s not a way to escape your rule. You immediately slap her face with your cock as well, until she finally sticks out her tongue, which Yujin instinctively does. The younger one has already stained the floor with her runny saliva, so before she ruins it entirely, you put your cock on her lips. You could call it a plug.

"Lube it up, bitch! Show me what your mouth is really useful for,” you groan at Yujin, then shift your attention to Minju. "Minmin, I called you here because I wanted you to join us, but you still have to learn a lot. I pray for your sake that you don’t stretch my patience intentionally. Get some saliva from Yujin and help her lube it up—or go back to your room!

Oh, and Yujin: if you want to go to Chaewon's performance, you'll be a good girl, right?"

"Yes, Daddy!" the younger shouts.

"N-no, Daddy," her unnie whimpers cutely.

Two very different answers, but both are exactly what you want to hear. Minju makes a cute face while gathering saliva in her mouth and gets ready to kiss your cockhead. When Yujin turns to her however, ready to give some of her drool, Minju becomes a flushing mess. In panic, she misses Yujin’s lips and releases her collected drool all over her friend's cheek.

Guess her feelings are quite strong for her ex-group members.

Minju's saliva trails down Yujin's face and chin and the latter can't help but giggle. Not in her usual cute and cheerful way, but in a lewd, horny way. Yujin grabs Minju's tomato-colored head and finds her lips in a furious make-out session. The klutz is wide eyed at first, but she melts into Yujin, the Dongsaeng she so loves and her eyelids fall shut. Dams break and the flow of drool is like a raging torrent from one mouth to the other. You line yourself up right next to it.

Yujin frees herself and releases everything from her mouth. A skilled tongue wets almost your entire manhood, from your base to all over your balls and underside. Minju follows suit and her cute mouth releases a waterfall as well. It covers your tip and the remaining dry skin without fail. They both begin to spread and massage the lubricant all over your rigid shaft and full balls, making you groan deeply. Fucking finally.

"Minju, you look so cock drunk," you mock her. "I bet you are staining the floor with your stupidly sweet juices already."

"Swowwy, Daddy,” she babbles with no regard for manners as her mouth is stuffed with your rod.

"Are you sorry though?"

Yujin gives a strong suck on your balls; it’s more like she leaves a message. She is fed up with being ignored. Her lips pucker around every one of your most sensitive parts. She knows your cock inside out, of course. After all, it has been inside of her more time than she has had promotions—just how she likes it.

You snarl nonetheless.

You don't let Minju answer as you push your tip deeper into her mouth, letting her suck it gently. You pet Yujin's head to signify you knew she was there. A surprise that it works. You really did break her back there. No bratty words, no teasing pout, just diligent stimulation of her Daddy’s dick.

Minju's cock sucking is always a sloppy affair. Her feisty face with glassy orbs is always a wonderful sight as she tries to shove it all inside her. She is still lacking however. You are sure this will not tip you over the edge, although she is able to extract precum from your slit with her quick tongue. The biggest issue is that she is scared to take the massive thing, shove it down her throat herself. Minju is not on the same sluttiness level as her Dongsaeng, who would gladly fuck herself on you until tears fall down—for a meal, for shoes, for a meeting with her Unnies.

"Fuck, it's not enough," you groan in slight anger and slide your hand from Yujin's sweaty hair to Minju's brown locks. Grip them tightly to force her head down your phallus. Her forehead crashes onto your pelvis. Minju chokes, you groan, Yujin gasps.

"Minmin… you need more training. I'm losing patience, fuck,” you curse. This should have been an easy and casual affair, breezy and mindless but it takes effort to train Minju. If she wasn't so cute with a fuckable body, your hospitality would certainly expire at some point. Now, she is basically family, and you are willing to help her be a good girl, a good slut. Family, s-sure.

Doesn’t matter if you call yourself family, you push deeper against her throat anyways. She is here for your use. Yujin meanwhile keeps trying to put your balls in her mouth, down her throat almost, as if her life depends on it. Yujin is learning to share, with her mommies, with her sister, with her family. Not again, fucking family.

"Daddy, if she can't take it, then I'm ready. Ready to fulfill your desire."

Yujin’s purr pulls you out of your disturbingly hot thoughts. She pouts on your balls, her desperately pleading, yet sharp eyes watching you from below. She massages your thighs with her soft fingers, slobbers all over your balls and moans in her most delicate voice. Yujin doesn't only want attention, she wants to win and is determined to be the perfect, disgustingly drooling slut for you. Rivalry between siblings?

"Shut up! You better help your unnie get better at it. Maybe you'll get some reward, but that is out of your control."

This is the moment where she would usually roll her eyes, but Yujin is a changed girl now—or is she hiding her annoyance? Either way, Yujin backs off behind Minju, who chokes on your cock whenever you pull her closer to your crotch. Tears and sweat of her struggle cover her face, yet she still doesn’t get it.

Your grip on Minju's hair loosens when Yujin's fingers seductively crawl up Minju's neck to the top of her head. The older girl gets goosebumps and wide eyes at the sensation and then shrieks. Yujin has her long, healthy locks in a tight grip.

"Unnie," she says in a bitchy and unamused tone, something very rare these days. "I really love you, but you're doing this wrong. Let me help."

What follows somewhat negates the fact that Yujin just told Minju that she loves her. With unexpected roughness, she starts to slam down the elders face onto your pelvis. Minju's forehead forcefully touches your abdomen and your dick breaks every barrier in her throat to reach deep into her. She gargles on her own spit for a second and chokes like it would actually save her from the massiveness blocking her air flow.

"Like. This. Unnie. Down."

Yujin pulls Minju back at her hair and with each new word she mimics a deep throating motion only a goddess of cocksucking could manage—and Minju is definitely no goddess at it yet. She tries her best to take it, to go at the pace herself, but Yujin just goes faster. It's impossible for her to adapt to the speed, but for you, this struggle is an even greater joy.

"Oh God, this is good. Actually fucking good!"

You groan and smile with the confidence of someone who has earned this and the more you think about it, the further you feel validated. Your hands cannot remain idle, they want to reach for Minju's hair. Yujin however gives you no reason to do so, and so you dig your fingers into hers, those perfect brown strands on this perfect bitch.

"Train her well, Yujin."

"I will, Daddy."

"Good. Open your mouth."

Yujin smiles greedily, the cock hungriness of a million horny sluts in her eyes. Her grip on Minju loosens and you give the beautiful, ruined klutz a chance to breathe. Minju falls to the floor coughing and spitting, her makeup everywhere but their original position.

Your girlfriend's mouth opens invitingly. Your length disappears inside her and you burst at the distinctive, perfect touch of her tongue. Yujin's eyes are bright and wide open as she receives the gift of validation, of triumph over your adoration for Minju. More than a mouthful of cum, enough to satisfy her hunger and encourage her cock drunkness.

"You need more training," you calmly say to Minju while patting Yujin as she cleans your dick. "Otherwise Daddy will be disappointed."

"I... I understand, Daddy. D-do you stil—”

"Don't ask such a question,” you interrupt her firmly, but with more care and love than you ever did before. “I'm sure you will do good next time, hm?"

"Y-yes, Daddy."

No matter how rich you are, you cannot control time. Hours fly by and the meet-up you promised Yujin to go to arrives faster than you wanted. You had to control yourself after seeing your girlfriend's outfit, that amazing dress showing off her body incredibly well. It looked as hot as her bare body, maybe even better in a way.

Control over your urges becomes better with boring people around you. The directors, cameramen and managers get easily fooled by Yujin's act. Yujin remains professional, no one can assume any kind of special or weird relationship between the two of you. A simple meeting, they don’t even ask you a single question. Is it really this easy to get behind the scenes of such a shoot?

After the boring introductions are over, you get ready for new, more fun ones.

First off is Sakura. The second she sees Yujin and you exit the conference room with all the managers, she leaves her bandmates behind and runs over. Her upper body is covered by a pink blanket to keep her warm, but below it you see hints of a white stage outfit. Baggy trousers and some kind of crop top.

The smaller Sakura stands before her Dongsaeng and gets in position to bow down, but Yujin quickly embraces her. With glee she shouts:

"Unnie, I missed you so much! It's been so long."

"Yujinnie, were you always this tall?"

"Yah! You sound like a grandma."

The two of them start to giggle and you give them a weak smile. The others should not catch you being suspicious, so you look around the vast hall. A very simplistic set, mostly colored in gray. In between the expensive camera equipment and handful of staff, you eye another person clothed in white. Your jaw begins to fall as you inspect the revealing outfit and incredible body more and more. This is definitely sluttier than anything Yujin ever wore in any of her stages.

You cough and look back down to your girlfriend who is still giggling and chatting with Sakura. The two of them are holding hands and you see Yujin's eyes sparkle in happiness. Good for her, definitely, but your cockhead is already urging you to think of someone else. Who is wearing this loose, insane collection of white stripes barely hiding anything?

"Oh shoot, we're about to perform," Sakura gasps and quickly hugs Yujin. Before she leaves, she gives you an unmistakable wink and a classic, beautiful smile, "Thank you for coming!"

"Unnie, fighting!"

"Glad to see you enjoying yourself," you whisper, but Yujin puts a finger on your lips.

"You don't want to miss this. I'm pretty sure Chaewon will be to your liking."

“Impurities / show you my impurities.”

"Cut!” the director shouts as the girl group members still stand there, frozen in the final pose of their dance. “Well done! We'll wrap things up for today."

Everyone cheers and claps, the shoot went excellent. Yujin besides you joins in as well, even the last random staff sitting in the corner applauds.

Everyone except you. You are completely feral. All because of this one fucking girl, with her short black hair in stark contrast to her slutty white outfit. All because she has to look so fucking hot while dancing this already provocative dance. All because of her fucking impurities. You almost lose your cool and reach for Yujin's ass, but this is not the time, not the place, not even for this. Fucking Chaewon, fuck.

Chaewon walks over and screeches when she sees her beloved Dongsaeng. Unlike with Sakura, the two of them immediately crash into one another and exchange hugs, jokes and all the banter they can come up with. This time, you are unable to look away for long. Chaewon's ass has its own gravity. It pulls your gaze back every time you notice how long you've been staring.

"Unnie, you are so good! And you look so good! This is going to be such a hit," Yujin babbles.

"You are one to talk," Chaewon responds in delight. "You have grown to become a beautiful woman. I bet you will make someone really happy one day."

Yujin grins and whispers directly into Chaewon's ear. From your point of view, it's impossible to understand anything, let alone read her lips. After a short while, Chaewon backs out of the hug. The situation has grown tense, cold even, but it gets even colder for you when Chaewon suddenly walks up to you. She stares—not into your eyes, but straight to your soul.

"You fucking pig."

"Excuse me?"

"You are disgusting. I swear to God, if you do anything fucked up... I'm going to fuck you up so bad, until you—ugh!"

Chaewon’s sentence is cut off by a disgusted gag. She stomps away quickly, her face filled with despise and harsh anger. The sway of her hips is even stronger than before now, which disturbs your feelings. Confusion and horniness force you to stand and ogle her bubble butt while your heart cannot comprehend these conflicting emotions inside you.

"What the fuck was that?" you whisper to Yujin, as she guides you out of the studio. "What the hell did you tell her that she would get this pissed?"

"Look," Yujin says, her tone far from playful and bratty, much closer to serious and guilty. "I knew that you would get the hots for her, but I didn't know that she would hate the idea so much."

"Which idea? What did you tell her, Yujin?"

The two of you flee towards your car to get some actual privacy. You can't raise your voice to her in public after all, although now might be the perfect time. Depending on what she just told Chaewon, literally everything could be in deep shit.

"Chill, Daddy, I told her that you are my boyfriend and that we'd like to have a threesome with her. Nothing too crazy, just something to sooth her in."

"And?"

"I-I mentioned the Daddy kink… and a b-bit more, you-you know?"

You sigh and put on your seatbelt. The engine roars and you start to race towards your apartment. Whatever Yujin means by ‘a bit more’, it made Chaewon seriously angry, which could make things bad for you quickly. Your mind tries to find a good response or solution to it, at the very least, you should find a punishment for Yujin that suits her stupid behavior.

A red light makes you hit the breaks. Yujin's hand immediately travels to your thigh and massages it. Coldly, you slap it away.

"Get in the backseat. I need to find a solution to this. And you better help me think, slut."

Yujin obediently climbs over the center console and positions herself in the middle of the back row. Through the rearview mirror, you see her in her gorgeous black dress with those sexy black stockings and her ruinable hair, make-up, face. You click your tongue as the lights turn green.

"Daddy, I'm sorry,” Yujin stutters to defend herself. “To-to be honest, I was convinced Chaewon—l-look, I relied on her being needy and desperate. A-and because you are so hot, I thought she was down for it."

"Undress."

"Wh-what."

"You heard me right, bitch. Get out of that dress. Slowly. I want to see what I own."

Yujin nods hesitantly. Her fingers fidget at the silky hem of her expensive dress and she begins to slowly pull up. Goosebumps of fear and excitement spread over her pale skin. She knows that those side windows are tainted, but the front is of course still wide open. Anyone could catch the unlikely, yet possible glimpse of her bare body if she continues this.

"Go on, " you snark in excessive annoyance, "Either give me a solution or get rid of that dress."

"I-I, " Yujin stutters. You hit the breaks at another red light and stare through the mirror. Your eyes lock and before you can order her to go full nude, she jumps in realization.

"Minju! I-I know a way, Daddy!"

"What?"

"Uhm... Minju is, if you remember from our punishment game, ve-very much into Chaewon, a-and as far as I know, Chaewon feels the same."

"So?" you say impatiently, fingers tipping the top of the steering wheel. The light turns green. You hit the throttle and as the Mercedes accelerates, you can hear Yujin's plan play out in your head. Guess she won't have to drive around naked.

At least not this time.

"Step 1: Get Minju and Chaewon to be on a call."

The plan starts off easy. All it takes for this to happen is for you and Minju to be home at the same time, which happens quite frankly. After all, Minju is not an actively training idol anymore and Hyewon is doing a good job right now, so you can stay at home with no worries. Now you only need to find a fitting moment.

Minju walks into the kitchen. Some sixth sense inside your crotch tells you to take the opportunity. Right now, now or never, a perfect time frame, whatever you may call it, it's enough to make you jump up and follow the naked beauty. Minju reaches for one of the upper shelves, a cookie box on top of it. She looks adorable, trying to grasp the metal frame of the colorful box. You grab her waist from behind and sit her on the opposite counter top. For no reason, you press a kiss on her lips.

"Huh? D-Daddy?"

"Fuck, you are beautiful. Uhm, did you want the cookies."

"Y-yeah, i-if I may."

"Of course."

You grab one of them and give it to her. As she begins to happily much on it, you give her her cellphone.

"Can you call Chaewon?"

"Chaewon-unnie? Why?"

"Well... I'm pretty sure she misses you. And it's shortly after noon, so she’s probably on a break right now."

You press your hands into Minju's thighs, massaging them, spreading them, while getting close to her face and whispering:

"Don't you want to see her again? Maybe set up a meeting to kiss?"

Minju blushes. She tries to hide her face, an odd visual as her whole body is in full nude and her pussy more and more visible from your spreading her legs. Nonetheless, she still searches for Chaewon's number and calls her the second the last cookie crumbs tumble down her throat.

"Unnie! This is Minju! Yes. Yes, I miss you too. We haven't talked in forever."

The two of them engage in a lively conversation immediately. Minju is engaged, distracted, as you predicted. Her beautiful smile and giggles as she gets teased are so endearing, you feel a little bad for using her.

"Step 2: Let Chaewon hear how good you make Minju feel."

Minju's legs are spread. She is not completely oblivious to it, as she gives you concerned glances, but she does not close them. She really became a good girl, so you will treat her like one. Grab her thighs and adjust her on the surface, then lower yourself to her crotch.

"U-u-unnie, I..."

You blow on Minju's pussy and then dive tongue-first into the pink, twitching entrance.

Your taste buds get a taste of what she seems to be leaking all the time and you can't lie: it's addicting. Her juice is like honey, but a lot less tenacious and easily consumable. With your tongue spreading her lips, you get a good amount of it and she is obviously unable to understand what Chaewon is saying.

You enjoy her taste, but her odor might be even better. She smells fresh like a rose and needy like the good girl she is slowly becoming for her Daddy. You could sniff her for longer, but the time is ticking. Chaewon won't stay on the phone forever after all, so you drag your tongue over Minju's labia. Her legs jerk lightly and she whimpers softly, softer than her folds. Those folds get greedily attacked by your licks, the left side, the right side, then all over. A first moan is imminent, and Minju releases it right into the speaker.

"Minmin?" Chaewon asks worriedly, "Are you alright?"

"Y-yes, I—hng, ah!"

Suck on her clit and Minju's phone tumbles out of her hand. You quickly pick it up and put it against her mouth. Chaewon shall hear every sound, every pant, every sexy moan from Minju's pretty lips.

"Minmin, what's happening?"

"I-It's okay, hng, it feels so go-good, ah!"

Minju's hand in your hair is unsure if it should push you away from her twitching core or deeper into it. Her thighs however are a lot more honest. They press down on your ears from each side. The more viciously you lick and suck, the less gentle they become.

"What feels good? Wait, are you masturbating? During a call?!"

"N-no, I, " Minju stops and her teary eyes look down at you. You quickly nod and give her an award in advance: a sudden finger in her empty, greedy pussy.

"I-I'm not, Unnie, he-he is just so good, ah! I'm gon-gonna cu—"

Minju mindlessly screams and squirts as you finger-and-tongue-fuck her over the edge. The fact that she cums so easily now makes you proud and you'd love to drink more from her leaking hole, but you have your fun adventure to not only end a call, but also start a new crazy chapter in your life.

"Who, Minju who in the fucking hell—"

"It's me, Chaewon,” you say in a dismissive, confident tone. “Yes, me. The fucking pig. I bet you know where to find me. But don't get your hopes high."

You give Minju a loud, sloppy kiss as she still moans in deep blissfulness.

"Minju is mine."

"Step 3: Wait."

A ring at your doorbell. Minju walks to the speaker and filled with enthusiasm, she presses the button to call Chaewon's elevator up. She leaves the door open and walks back to you.

"Well done, Minmin. Are you not embarrassed? Being naked before Chaewon?"

"No, no," she shakes her head cutely, then blushes, "we saw each other naked often."

"Oh? So you two did more than just kissing, huh~?"

Minju's blush grows. In what can only be the universe's irony, she rather hides her face then her exposed pussy and medium size breasts. She has really gotten used to being naked—or it's because she is still euphoric from your cock being in her right after the call ended?

"Do you want to do it again?"

Your question makes Minju look up at your closer coming figure. You love the shyness and innocence she still has even after all that has happened. It makes you want to cuddle her—or break her again, fuck her mindlessly against the wall, in the shower or in front of her friend.

"Do you want to have sex with Chaewon? Or do you want this?"

You drop your dress pants and although her eyes remain locked with yours, her hand instinctively reaches for your still hard cock. Another clear victory for you, as she strokes you.

"Minmin, where are you?" Chaewon shouts from the front door.

"Tell her where you are, Minmin, " you sadistically whisper into her ear. "Tell her who owns you, tell her where you reside, where you spend your days naked and being a whore. Minmin look at me. Would you ever touch Chaewon without Daddy's permission? Would you ever want to? Or is Daddy all you need, all you ever want?"

You put your hand at her chin and hold her up to you, oozing a wad of spit from your mouth into hers. Suddenly, Chaewon rushes in and stops in the door frame. With an inner grin, you let even more spit run down on Minju's tongue and down her chin which you firmly hold. Feeling your own saliva has rarely felt this good.

"Min... Minju what is—you fucking bastard, you pig! I'm going to kill you!"

If she would follow up her words, Chaewon would need to leap towards you and tackle you to the ground, yet she still stands there, her knees shaking from anger, her hands in firm fists. You smirk at her, not concerned in the slightest. All that matters rests in your palm and is as well-trained as ever.. It’s the same as with Hyewon: you have all the leverage, not only the feeling of power, but real power. You are not going to hold it back

"What's wrong?” you respond with utmost wit. “Come and kill me then. But I assume you won’t even step into the room, what a disappointment. Minmin, tell Chaewon what we just discussed. Tell her everything."

"Shut the fuck up!” Chaewon screams at the top of her lungs, face boiling bright red in rage. “Minju, get away from him. You don't have to do that. He is just using you to cheat on Yujin!"

"B-but Unnie," Minju gulps down your spit and gives her friend a serious, determined look. "This is my home, this is where I-I walk around naked everyday. This is my Daddy and I'm so happy he owns me and f-fucks me. Thank you, Daddy."

Minju gets on her toes and you pull at her chin to start a short, passionate torrent of kisses, while her pussy presses down on your upright shaft. Chaewon gasps.

"Cheat on Yujin?” you say with slight indignation, as your tongue slips from Minju’s lips. “I would never and have never. In fact, Yujin is the one who pushed Minju here in the first place! I didn't want her here, but she's proven to be a fun toy and a good girl for Daddy. Isn't that right Minju?

She nods eagerly, her eyes shimmering, licking the spit on her face or the juice in her crotch. You firmly squeeze her chin and stare her down to the absolute shock of her friend.

“Now, you didn't listen to me fully. Would you ever touch Chaewon without Daddy's permission? Would you ever desire her without my approval? Who has given you the greatest happiness and pleasure in your life, who do you love the most, Minmin?"

"I love Chaewon, but I want Daddy. Daddy owns me, I only want your cock."

"Good girl," you growl with a smirk. She didn't need to be so cute about it, but you can't help but dig into her collarbone with kisses while lifting her light body up. She wraps her legs around your waist and with ease, your cock penetrates her slick pussy. Without caring for the frozen Chaewon, you carry Minju to the couch.

"Ride Daddy, Minju. Show Chaewon how you bounce on someone you really love."

"Yo-you are a bit mean, Dad—ah!"

You give her a heavy thrust and a spank on her firm ass. The hit on both her inside and outside leaves her mewling and she abides. Much to the dismay of Chaewon, Minju starts to bounce on your cock like a marble bounces down an endless staircase. Her hands are wrapped around your nape and you enjoy the sight of her delirious face and shaking tits.

"Good girl Minmin. Who has given you the best pleasure, baby girl? Is it Chaewon or me?"

"Daddy! Daddy is the best!"

"That's fucking enough!"

Chaewon finally gathered her strength. Her stomps are strong. Like an angry hoard of buffaloes, she storms over to you and wraps her arms around Minju. With one strong pull, she gets her Dongsaeng off of your cock.

"N-no, Unnie, I want."

"Minju, he won't do this to you anymore."

Chaewon reaches for both your tip and your throat. Mercilessly, she squeezes down on both of them while locking eyes. Her dark irises are like a void of hatred, sucking you in. The power of a blackhole, while her hands use the power to suffocate your pleasure.

Yet you don't break a sweat. With a badly faked whimper, you say what she probably wants to hear.

"I'm so scared, oh no, don't kill me Chaewon."

"Chaewon! What the hell are you doing? Get away from him right now!"

You smirk as Chaewon turns around and sees an angry, truly angry Minju. This wasn't anger of jealousy or desire, but of seeing a loved one in danger, a need to protect.

"You are out of your mind, Minju!" Chaewon shouts back at her friend and stares. The blackholes that couldn't do anything to you, seem to be effective. No matter how angry Minju is, she will always be soft at heart. She backs off, still irritated and clearly unsatisfied.

It's a circus you love to see. Anything to make Chaewon crack a little more.

"Wow, calling your best friend these words. You must be the one out of your mind, Chaewon. Maybe the bitchiness has clouded your brain."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! I hate you, I hate you so fucking much. I will... I will take this from you."

She squeezes your cock even tighter.

"This? You want to rip it off?" you laugh at her face.

"No. I will drain you. Remove all the pleasure from what you think your 'power' is."

Chaewon leans to your face and digs all of her fingernails into your skin. The pain in your facade is the only thing that you don't have to fake anymore. It hurts like hell.

"And then I'll take Minju back."

"Oh ho," you mockingly hum. Chaewon rids herself of her skirt and panties. For the first time, she isn't pressing something down or into your throat. You probably bleed from there, if not it's just the sweat. But to win this, every drop of blood, sweat and tears is worth it.

"I'll fucking fuck you till your breath stops, pathetic son of a bitch."

Chaewon does not give you a chance to respond. The palm of her hand is firmly pressed on your lips as she sinks on your shaft. Her pussy, a freshly shaved innie, is incredibly tight and she struggles to get you in. In frustration, she spits in her hand and lubes you up.

You try to make a scene by flailing with your arms. Maybe she really believes that she can break you this way. But there is certainly a small part in her that just wants to try it. The pleasure you give to her Dongsaengs, the temptation that is your body and cock, they are all too great to not be a factor in her bizarre decision to straddle your lap.

"Shit," Chaewon winces when you finally pierce her open. This time the penetration is a bit easier, but she still struggles. Her plan looks even more embarrassing now. How in the hell does she want to hurt you if she is already hurting at this stage.

"U-Unnie, stop doing that," Minju urges her from the side, stern concern in her voice.

Chaewon shakes her head and wipes a tear off her face. She's got you almost entirely inside her and starts to wiggle her hips a little. You can't lie, this isn't a lot of fun for you either. She is too dry inside and compared to the enthusiastic, submissive Minju, she is absolutely no fun. If you were doomed to always have sex like this for the rest of your life, she would have succeeded in breaking your spirit.

Luckily, this is not the case.

"W-well? Already hating it?" Chaewon asks, her voice trying to sound triumphant while her face contorts in pain. She removes her hand from your lips and you frown at her, unimpressed, unfazed.

"Minju, come over here."

Your command is followed instantly. Minju kneels next to you, her beautiful body upright on the couch. Her gorgeous breasts are on your eye-level and you have to force yourself to look past them. Her face is painted with uncertainty and neediness.

"Yes, Daddy? Ah!"

Instead of answering her, you stick two fingers into her entrance below. Minju begins to mewl like a cute kitten and the envy on Chaewon's face is priceless. Surely she can attack you in this position, but as she is unable to adjust to the large phallus inside her, she won't do anything.

"Your Unnie doesn't feel as great as you. Do you think there is any way we can help her, how you can help her?"

"Daddy, I know e-every spot that Chaewon-unnie likes."

"No, Minju, no," Chaewon whines, but before she can get a hand on her friend, you grab both her wrists and hold them tightly.

"That's great, but first, give me Chaewon's panties. We have to tie her up, she has been very naughty."

This is the moment Chaewon should realize that her plan was futile and stupid to begin with and that her curiosity and libido got the better of her. With her smelly panties, she receives the treatment of a caught criminal, all while her friend is playing along. The only way out would be to leave, but this would mean to leave Minju behind.

Chaewon's heart cannot allow this. It cannot forget how strong she feels whenever the taller girl smiles or waves at her, when they cuddled in bed during the covid scares, when they cried together after the final concert. All the times they got intimate together—she can't leave her behind.

"Good girl," you groan to Minju and caress her cheek. In Chaewon's mind, you're saying it to her and she hates it. She hates every last bit of you. The way you nuzzle up into Minju to whisper to her. The way you control her and force her to call you Daddy. The way you make her—

"Ah, Minju, no-not there!"

Minju places soft, slow kisses below Chaewon's navel and works her way in a zig-zag pattern from thigh to thigh. Only a few things make the fierce leader weaker than this and only Minju knows of them.

"You're doing so good, Minju."

Your praise is met with a hum when you massage her butt and then move back to gently play with her clit. Minju moves further up. She licks Chaewon's underboob, not caring about the salty sweat which resides there. Goosebumps travel all over Chaewon's skin and when Minju finally leeches onto one of her nipples, you feel it without a doubt.

"Oh, it's working,” you say excitedly as a surge of juice lubes up your shaft inside Chaewon, and you decide to tease her with it. “Chaewon, are you getting wetter?"

"N-no, pig. Fuck, I h-hate y-you."

"That's why you're here, hm? Then do it! Free 'your' Minju."

The small woman gets into position again. Your cock almost slipped all the way out of her, it's a lot easier for her to let you glide inside. However, her untrained walls still struggle with the last inch. No matter how much she forces herself, it’s not enough, agonizing for both of you. The entirety of her riding is sloppy, absolutely unenjoyable.

All her adjustments and attempts to take you faster or more of your dick end the same way: with a groan of disappointment. You let her try it over and over again, but her attempt at hate sex is nowhere near overstimulation or pain. There is a lot more boredom, although her walls have potential.

"Fuck, Chaewon, that's not gonna work."

You roll your eyes and Chaewon actually stops. Tears are in the corner of her eyes and when you look over to Minju, she seems pretty upset as well. Her only comfort is your hand rubbing her softly on her sensitive spots.

"You're pretty shit at this, wow,” you dryly whisper your factual insult. “I thought you wanted Minju back, make me resign and give up, but this is just downright bad."

"Wh-what? What the fuck are you saying?"

Chaewon is in disbelief. Her tied up hands smack your chest. You swat them away and get a hand in her short black hair.

"I'm being totally serious here. You fuck like someone who has no experience. This way, you won't get anything out of me."

You look over to Minju and when she reacts, you press a kiss on her tender lips. You coo a 'good girl' at her and she giggles cutely. Chaewon realizes the meaning of your words and immediately climbs off of your cock.

"Fuck you. I don't need that. You're a disgusting piece of shit, I don't want your fucking compliments."

"No, I bet you much rather walk to the next guy, have sex with him and let him either lie or tell you the gut punching truth. Chaewon, only here can you train without it becoming a rumor. Only here can you see Minju. These are just the facts, but do whatever you want."

"Ugh, fucking hell,” Chaewon curses with shame and disgust written all over her pretty face. She struggles for a second, then tears the tied up panties around her wrists open. To her dismay, they are completely useless now.

"Okay, Mr. Sex-Expert-Pig. What the fuck do you think is wrong? I bet I could make any guy cum in under a minute."

You scoff and stare her down.

"Oh, and then why weren't you able to make a horny 'pig' like me to cum? Do better Chaewon. Your technique, your enthusiasm, your movement are all weak. I—"

"Fucking fine then!” Chaewon screams and sends her skirt flying into a nearby wall. “I'll fuck you. I'll fuck my anger onto you every fucking day if it means getting bett—getting Minju back. And then you'll see!"

"Oh, you can try, but all compliments are reserved for good girls."

You hug Minju's waist. The cute girl is completely confused by what is happening, but she sure enjoys your affection and repeated kisses. When you press your palm to the back of her head, she wanders down your body and begins to lick your cock blissfully.

"Urg, I'm not calling you Daddy. In fact, I won't do anything for you. I'll fuck the compliments out of you and then Minju will see how pathetic you are, pig."

"I bet you will die trying, bitch."

#kpop smut #girl group smut #izone smut #female idol smut #eleven to one universe #ive smut #le sserafim smut #chaewon smut #minju smut #yujin smut #ahn yujin smut #2kim smut

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years

Note

Hi!

I just wanted to say that I absolutely love all of your COD fics! Your Price fics made me fall in love with him (I saw a recommendation for See No Evil on TikTok and just went down the rabbit hole from there (it’s also my comfort fic)) and Laughing Poets made me buy Ghosts for Keegan. Your writing is so beautiful and poetic and has inspired me to start writing again after a really bad writing’s block!

I also did want to put in a request for Ghost (because I love him so much) but given his hype, I understand if you don’t want to write for him or if it may be hard. But I was hoping that this hasn’t been done before (much) and that I could read it in your words since you are so amazing!

I was thinking of the reader being a CIA agent that was working undercover to get classified information and 141 was sent in to extract her after she was compromised. And her and Ghost don’t really get along at first, like they don’t hate each other but they could just care less about one another. But then they get separated and one of them is injured and the other fights tooth and nail to get to them, realizing how much they care. I was thinking that her callsign could be ‘Reaper’ but it can be anything else if it fits better. It can be angsty (because that’s the absolute best genre), fluffy, nsfw, whatever you want to do with it.

I know this is asking a bit much and I’m sorry for that. Feel free to change it as you see fit and do whatever you want with it, if you want to do it. I really appreciate and love your work!! Thank you!!

'Til it Hurts

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: You thought that it would be easy - moving on and blazing your own trail, but at every step, memories seem to come back and haunt you. And the biggest memory takes the shape of a man with a skull mask. Can you still deny what you had always felt when he stands at your side once more?

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: This duology will be 18+ and contain the following: intense gore, blood, violence, vulgar language, angst, fluff, suggestive content, (smut, p in v sex, virgin!reader (relevant to plot) all in part 2), abuse of power in the past, toxic working environment in the past, copious flashbacks, soft!simon because I love him like that (I guess considered ooc), banter, etc...

A/N: Part 2 will be posted tomorrow after I edit it and the link will be added to this part as well for ease of access. But, anna, that's wild that people post about my work on tiktok, lmfao. I'm so glad I helped you out of that writer's block, though! Enjoy part 1, Love (I did change it around a bit)!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You often think of the friends you had when you were six. The neighborhood you grew up in was full of other kids your age, and there was practically a horde of young boys and girls outside at any given moment. Early mornings were ripe for adventures – ears perking up from your pillows at the sound of bird songs and lawnmowers like an instinctual call to cause mischief. Days would run long and nights would end late with games of tag.

It was inevitable, at this point in your life, to not think about where your friends would be now. Were they happy? Starting families and getting married on island resorts; white sand underfoot and a gentle lapping of ocean water? You’d lost contact a long, long, time ago – never bothered to get back in touch, though you know things might be better if you had.

God, you’d never have friends like that again.

Selfless. Genuine. Without competition or a need to stab each other in the back. Friendships built on a childlike innocence that was never meant to stay or grow with the brutal stretch of years. People mature. They harden, sharpen.

They break themselves to fit a mold of what they want to be without even realizing…Or maybe that was just how you grew up.

Your feet pound against the cobblestone streets of Bergamo, Italy, as you make your way through the packed road of the Upper Old District. Under your chin, your fingers go up to grasp the scarf around your neck and pull the thick navy fabric up farther. Fast eyes flicker over faces as a fake plastered smile splays over your lips, and your jaw holds a tension that seeps into your shoulders.

Keep the act up, you have to remind yourself, fingers heavy at your hips, don’t let the facade slip, or else it’s over before it begins.

At your sides, past the unending sea of loudly speaking humans and loyal animals alike, the broad expanse of ancient architecture calls to the history of this city; red-terracotta roofing, extravagant greenery, and pillars as tall as the buildings themselves. A picturesque land filled with mysteries lost to time, stories never told beyond the scratch of a pen and moth-eaten parchment.

A city now filled with killers.

“Sitrep,” you grunt into the open channel, the earpiece fizzling as it sits in the clutch of your canal. No one answers and, slipping past a family of tourists, you glare at the ground; heart going so fast you feel like it could jump-start a car. “Damnit!”

The seconds draw on and as you pick up the pace, now shoving your way through the crowd, you feel eyes on you. Slithering over your skin like oil.

Not good.

Shit. Karver, where did you go!?

Karver ‘Rigs’ Massarini was an informant – someone who’d been giving you everything that you needed to know about the cell in this area; along with a grouping of eyewitnesses to a stash of ICBMs. A stash that could do some serious damage if they stayed here with the wrong people. Intel suggests that those very missiles were going to be shipped off to Mexico in only a few days, smuggled across the border into United States territory with the intent of doing some pretty awful stuff and framing the US.

If you and Rigs weren’t quick with this, so many innocents would suffer.

You’d already gotten into contact with Mexican Special Forces yourself, warning Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo Parra of a possible breach and to watch for any unregistered shipments on the docks or coming in from the air.

But now Rigs was missing, and you had a funny feeling you were being trailed.

Back alley. You take a quick right, boots slamming to the ground and heart hammering. Get away from the civvies in case someone decides to go trigger-happy.

This cell was known for being deadly, Mr. Massarini had sent the file over to CIA headquarters before you were shipped out; Laswell had set you on it right away without even taking the time to read it entirely.

“Extremely high Kinetic; I’m giving you full Execute Authority on this, Reaper. We’re running out of time. Find those missiles.”

Torture, kidnappings, mutilations, the list went on for this group and how far they would go to keep secrets. No one had gotten any clear insight as to what their motives were – just that they needed to be put down in exactly the ways they had been doing to others. Ruthlessly, before they grew bigger or spread their influence beyond borders, and created a group that could rival what Al-Qatala had been.

So that was where you came in.

God, you wished Farah and Alex were here with you – at the very least you could rely on them to help, even if you sectioned yourself off from others more than a dying cat. There was a reason you preferred being sent in alone with only your wits.

Mostly because of situations like this.

“Rigs, sitrep. Where are you,” you try again, the close walls shrouding in your shadows. Throwing looks over your shoulders, you take down deep breaths, a growl gradually digging itself a hole in your esophagus. Desperately, you say, “I’m heading back to the safe house ASAP. Wait for me there.”

Your right hand gravitates to your pocket, slipping through the fabric and pushing aside the ripped seam at the bottom. The sheath at your thigh pinches you with every step, but you’ve endured it for years, calluses breeding where the leather had chaffed the flesh to toughness. To an ingrained perfection. Flinching when your fingers bump against the handle, the metal adornments feel cool to the touch despite the sweat dripping down your spine; temperature and nerves leaving your palms sweaty.

None of this was going to plan.

You caress the small Dirk blade strapped to you, and when the first footsteps enter the alleyway behind you, your hand clenched into a loose fist around it. Your eyebrows pull tight with annoyance.

Taking a slow breath as the trailing stranger begins to move faster, you take a corner, halting the second you were out of sight. You nonchalantly turn on your heel and lean into the wall, feeling your body conform to the building and the stone dig into your back.

The material is cold, and as you raise your Dirk up, you flip the blade parallel to your forearm, wrist lax, and fingers still. A slow breath flows from your barely-parted lips.

3 seconds. You don’t blink, only gazing out across the space and noticing the dark shadow gaining ground. 2…1…

Your body jerks forward, free hand snapping out and grasping the fabric of a shirt. Twisting your hips, you plant your feet and wrench the stranger around the corner, breath coming out in a loud snarl. Without a shout, you have the person’s back shoved to the building in an instant, blade held above an Adam’s Apple.

A man, then.

“I’m going to give you one full minute.” Your Italian was only surface level – far better at understanding others than speaking full sentences. But you think whoever this man is comes to a conclusion well enough. “Before I cut you open and watch the life spill from your eyes.”

You don’t recognize this person, his sharp face or dark, sly, eyes, and with a quick assessment of his large stature you figure out he’s the basic definition of a man sent to complete a job. One that would have left you dead if you were anything less than a contracted CIA Agent on a job. You had been trained among the best from your time in the Marines – years on Special Ops forces; taking point. Even if they were the worst times of your life, you still learned a great deal from them, particularly, how to know when to cut your losses.

With one look into his smug face, you know that this stranger would tell you nothing.

Your lips formed a grimace, teeth flashing under flesh at the rod-straight form of the man under you. He was smirking with eyes seeming to be laughing at you. Arrogant. Self-assured.

“You’ll get nothing out of me, Reaper. We are already on your trail.” Your head tilts, a numb huff escaping your throat and pushing the individual's hair back as a breeze would. There was a small pause; tiny shiftings of your feet as your blade digs ever deeper.

A thin trail of blood falls from the placement, and your muscles writhe under the epidermis. There’s no thought behind the laugh that enters the air, that cold, dark, thing that’s more of a bark from a hellhound. It was just a realization that no matter where you went, there could never be anything unique anymore. Everyone was always the same.

“You’ll never get it out of me-”

“Break my bones; rip my flesh, you will never make me talk-”

“If you want to see me beg, you’ll be disappointed-”

There were countless memories you could bring to the precipice of your mind and re-live; moments ingrained into your psyche like a tattoo is to skin. So you can only smile and nod, scarf swishing around your neck. The man looks confused now, if not slightly nervous. That self-assured attitude leaking to the ground. Eyes as dark as obsidian beginning to snap back and forth – looking for a saving grace in the make-up of ancient stone that wasn’t going to come.

You wondered how many people had died in this city throughout history. The stories lost to time. Have these alleys seen war? Famine?

Have they seen murder?

But you are a woman of your word. A minute passes in tense silence, your eyes never leaving his own and ears carefully in tune, twitching like an antenna, to the joyous shouts and laughter just a street over. Here you wait like a rat in a trap, though you like to believe yourself more of the metal Hammer than the unknowing participant in a dance of death and wits.

You tighten your grip on your Dirk, shrugging up at the man. Your face is nonchalant as an understanding smile grows. As simple as a server at a restaurant.

“I believe you.” And you run the knife’s edge across his flesh like a match to a striker before he can scream.

Stepping back, you’re suddenly thankful for the scarf over your sweat-slick neck because as the spray of blood splatters over your nose bridge and forehead, you swipe it away with one of the ends of the thick fabric. You let the body drop, watching large hands snap to the gushing wound like that alone would stop the cold grip of death.

Your mark has been met.

The External Carotid Artery was easy enough to cut, though you had to dig deep for it, and it seemed the man had moved mid-slice. Frowning while the man gasps and gurgles; flails as a fish would, you study your work as you flick the blade clear of blood. Your brows furrow.

“Nicked the Thyroid Cartilage, hm.” Sighing and shaking your head, you sheathe the Dirk and twist on your feet, still intent on making your way back to the hotel safe house and trying to find a lead on Rigs. The slumping of a body reverberates a moment later, a grandiose death rattle, and still, only a street over you hear animated conversations – the bustle of traveling feet, and the sound of the breeze.

You often think about the friends you had when you were six. But, now, instead of being the one who fought off the monsters at the ends of the beds, you had become it. The monster. The boogeyman.

The Reaper.

Oh, what would they think of you now?

You swipe at the blood along your fingertips, seeing the red bleed under your nails with such a numb feeling that it scares you more than anything. Taking down a gathering of saliva that feels more like a slug in your throat, you wonder when you lost the ability to value human life. Of course, the answer was slated in those early years in Special Ops, but you don’t dwell on those times.

In fact, it was better if you never thought of them at all.

Taking a left, you hum a tune under your breath and listen to the birds sing as the blood dries.

—

The meeting room wasn’t even a room, just a vacant air-craft hangar that had been fitted out with two rows of metal fold-out chairs and a projector. Shadows danced over the floor, long streaks of darkness over concrete.

“...I’ll be giving you full Execute Authority – but this mission is completely Black. Host weapons only. No Evac team.” Laswell’s voice echoes off the ceiling, and Ghost’s eyes flow over the projected intel, memorizing the faces and locations with nothing more than a blink of his blue eyes. Fluttering eyelashes caress the hard material of his mask before settling.

Task Force 141 was being sent off on another deployment again, deep into Belarus and near the Russian border.

“Time frame?” The Captain asks, standing a small distance away and leaning against a crate of ammunition. His arms are crossed; jaw is loosely set.

Kate looks at him, above the heads of Gaz and Soap, and nods her head before she comments, “one week.”

Gaz huffs from ahead of the hulking form of Ghost, and the silent man shifts his attention back to the group.

“One week, Kate? No offense, but we don’t even know if the bastard’s in Belarus.”

“‘fraid to get dirty there, Garrick? Ah, we’re good enough for it.” Soap elbows the male at his side, and the masked man releases a puff of breath one row back. The Scot twists in his seat, mohawk tendrils falling over his forehead, and smirks. “C’mon Lt. back me up here. We’ve got this in the bag already.”

“Bit confident, Johnny?” Ghost grunts out, accented voice low and muffled from under the black fabric over his lips. His hips shift over the chair, legs splayed and arms crossed as he reclines back; letting the bulk of his gear weigh heavy. “Just wait until you’ve got us sitting on a pile of dry leads and rotting corpses.”

“Eh, nothin’ we haven’t dealt with before.”

“Focus, you three.” Kate interrupts as Gaz rolls his eyes to himself, fixing his ball cap over his head with a fast flick of his wrist at the antics of the other two. “You’re going to be shipped out at 2000–”

An easily recognizable ringtone starts to play.

Blinking in surprise, Laswell takes a glance at the table that had been long forgotten and spies her phone buzzing over the metal. Her light brown hair, kept securely tied back, swished at the nape of her neck. She wastes no time.

Briskly walking over, the rest of the men in the room watched intently, heads perked up. Ghost couldn’t stop the pique of interest at the strange behavior, though his form remains still, only making a noise under his breath in contemplation. In the hold of his crossed arms, his fingers tighten.

“Not the person I’d imagine keeps her phone on for just anyone…” Gaz makes a slow comment, and John slides up beside him, hands hooking onto the sides of his combat vest. Watching.

“Hm,” their command affirms.

Kate picks up her phone and immediately answers, brows furrowed. She shifts her weight as an inhalation reverberates. The conversation on the other side was too muffled, a small droaning the only signal that someone was on the opposite.

Unconsciously, Ghost straightens in his chair as the rolled-back sleeves of his undershirt leave his black ink tattoos on display. A deep intrigue spilled in his chest but otherwise, he was still focused on the previous instructions for the next Op. This was just another cog in the wheel, perhaps a location change for their safe house, or an accelerated timeline. No matter, they would get it done regardless–

“Reaper?” Laswell speaks, and blue eyes slide to stare at the Captain, whose legs had tensed. “What’s happened–”

The Lieutenant knows something was wrong just by the simple fact that he’d never seen their Station Chief talk on her personal phone with that look on her face before – he’d seen it mirrored on the Captain and he’d clocked it from her just as simply. The wrinkled skin at the side of her eyes, and stiff-set lips peeled back in a frown. She’d always been serious, but the air was different.

Reaper? He runs through the database of his mind and ignores Gaz’s and Johnny’s muttered words and glances.

“Now who do you think that is, then?” Soap grunts out. Ghost doesn’t answer.

Brows furrow.

Sounds familiar, the man can’t help but admit.

“Patch me through. Now.” Kate slips to the computer a few steps away and opens a fresh tab, sorting through files and months of intel as if it mattered just as much as a bug under her heel.

“Kate?” Price prompts. The woman only holds up a finger and keeps the phone in between her shoulder and cheek, hands fast across the keys.

Soon enough, a feed pops up on the projector, and the three previously sitting all rise to their feet in an instant.

An open wound is in the process of being stitched and displays itself over the entire available space, violent red internal flesh puckering over the edges of…Ghost narrows his eyes, unphased.

Was that a fabric needle and thread being used for sutures? Resourceful, he admits.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” The manchester man levels thought the blandness of the tone contradicts itself. “Where’s this feed from, Laswell?”

“What the fuck…?” Soap growls out, and the Scot blinks at the screen in shock as the Brit beside him lets off a sound of disgust akin to a sick cat.

“Reaper, sitrep.” Kate doesn’t flinch, rushing off into procedure as steady hands delve back into flesh, blood falling from their fingers like water to splatter to a rundown wooden table. The world-away computer was most likely getting a rain of crimson all over the keys at this rate.

Price grunts under his breath.

“Shit,” a distinctly feminine voice wafts out, a harsh sigh held back, though the annoyed tone was noticed immediately, “can’t a girl stitch herself up in peace? Besides, Watcher-1 answer me this, huh?” The computer is jerked, its screen going staticky as Ghost watches with roving eyes to take in the background when the visibility returns. A bed, nightstand, and sitting by the floor of the front door, copious amounts of weapons. The man takes stock – an M13 assault rifle, X12 handgun, and Arctic .50 sniper rifle. Ammunition lines the floor in a way that leaves Ghost’s lips thinning under the mask.

Someone’s in a hurry. But from what?

“…what goddamn hotel doesn’t have mirrors in it?” Kate’s sigh can be heard a mile away. “No, I’m being serious here, Watcher – how the hell does that happen?”

Watching you take a step back, Ghost as well as the other three all blink in surprise when you come into view. Your top was off, only a sports bra covering your flesh, as your focus stays on the digging needle you send into yourself over and over.

Yet again a feeling of intense familiarity strikes the Brit in the chest. Your soft face, your hair, your voice. It was infuriating.

Who are you? The inability to call forth a memory leaves the fists at his sides gradually clenching under his gloves.

“Reaper.” Seriousness grows in the Agent’s voice, and Price lets out a slow chuckle that leaves Gaz turning to him in confusion.

“Sir?” But the inquiry is ignored.

“Still as stubborn as ever, then, Reap?” Everyone sees your hurried stitches stop, head snapping up as they clock a veiled panic behind the iris’.

Your eyes tell all the story they need, and Ghost’s body freezes as the color evokes a physical twitching of his hand.

“Holy hell,” he utters under his breath so silently no one even realizes he spoke; eyelids pulling back before settling like nothing had even happened.

“You know, you're the first person who’s been nice to me out here.”

“...Then I’d tell you to get better friends, Sergeant. I’m not sticking around.”

“I never said they were my friends, Ghost, and I never expected you to stay, anyways. That’s not how this works.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

“Bravo-06?” You ask, voice sometimes cutting out over the line. A laugh breaks out, and a small smirk twitches the corners of your lips, “Hey, Old Man, how’s it going over there? Been a while.”

“What have you got yourself into now?” Price asks, chuckling under his breath with a groaned continuation, “and how do you need me to get you out of it?”

The spectral man now watches with a newfound fervency, blue eyes boiling so violently that if anyone had seen, they would have thought he was about to attack. Like a split second of eye contact with a wolf before it rushes. The build of his shoulders was still loose, however, and the only indication of shock was his optics; the mask shrouded all.

But there was a subtle movement of his hips, feet transferring over the floor to stand shoulder-length apart.

“Oh, this,” you point to your injury with a free finger, tying off a knot on the last line of sutures. “Nah, it’s nothing. A couple of assholes tried to get the jump on me a block back, one had a knife on ‘em.” Your hand tosses the needle and thread to the table, a muttered, thunk, sounding off. Looking down at your work with a raised brow, everyone watches. “Took care of it – they gave me a name, too, but with the trail of bodies I left today, I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t pan out.”

A pause before you turn your head back up, face now completely serious as you focus on Laswell.

“But we have a bigger problem, Watcher. Rigs is gone; I think my position’s compromised. I’m going black.” Your form leans to the side, and a wrinkled t-shirt is thrown over your head. From your mouth, a stifled groan releases. Ghost blinks in surprise.

The Captain’s lips thin, and he looks at a tight-wound Kate.

“I have a contact in the lower levels, Reaper, meet up with her and she can have you out of the city by tonight. I’ll send over her info.”

“No can do, Watcher.” You sigh, and Ghost simply stares, following your figure as you back up, heading to the X12 and shimmying it into the back of your pants before looking over your shoulder. Kate hums under her breath. “If they’ve got Rigs,” Walking quickly back over to the computer, one of your hands grasps the top of the frame, thumb poking out from the corner. You tilt your head. “I ain't leaving without him right behind me. I’ll be in contact in a month – if I’m not, then I’m dead already.”

Your chuckle strikes a cord through the room and Soap snorts in answer.

“Glass-half-empty kind of person, then?”

“I’d say,” Gaz mutters.

Continuing, you’re about to say something else – lips already partially parted and breath sucked in – before your eyes lock onto Ghost. The atmosphere of the room flips like the page of a book.

You stare at him with what seems to be a million emotions flying past the glossiness of your optics; lids already peeled back and whites showing in a display that showed more than told. The man could only begin to imagine what you were thinking – how long had it been since he’d seen you last? You’d obviously gotten out of your Marines Special Ops unit.

Not quite how I remember you. It wasn’t hard to recall that small branch of the MRR – Marine Raider Regiment – and how they treated you. But that wasn’t any of his business. He’d been there to do a job, and he’d accomplished it. Quite thoroughly, if anyone would have checked the file after it was all over.

Ghost’s life was counted in the sands of an hourglass, small, molecular, bits hitting the bottom one after the other; rarely was that time wasted on pointless squabbles and words but at that moment, he was conflicted.

The Brit had never expected to see you again, and the sand briefly halted when you spoke. Hm.

Yes, he remembered that voice… he’d just never heard you this confident before.

“Ghost.” He watches the emotions on your face settle, and he was thankful for the mask covering his visage because he knows he would have left at least a small twitch of his lips slip. “Long time no see.”

“Mutt.” The Lieutenant nods in a monotone greeting but notices a slight jerk of your shoulders at the name. His eyebrows furrow, but mentions nothing as his pulse slows.

Your neck moves as you swallow, looking to the side as a dark curiosity fills the space in Ghost’s lungs; head nanoscopically tilting to the side like a vulture.

“Nice seeing you, Bravo-06,” You tilt your head toward the Captain before clearing your throat and addressing Laswell. “I’ll be around.”

It wasn’t hard to tell that the title had made you freak, a kind of bad cloud suddenly springing to life above your head.

Seems to bother her more than being in a Hot Zone, Ghost tells himself, the deep well of dark water in his gut still. That didn’t make any sense. He watches your hand slaps over the computer and the feed goes dark in an instant.

The room is more silent than Ghost is.

“Kate, she’ll need our help.” Price shakes his head from side to side; body moving to the front of the room. “I’m not asking.”

The two talk it over as Ghost’s mind trails, head tilting down more towards his chest as his eyelids narrow.

“Hm,” He grunts, arms tensing as his grip shifts. Soap turns around as Gaz goes to join the conversation between the Captain and the agent.

“What? Know ‘er or something, Lt?” The Scot asks, slapping a hand on the taller man’s arm. Ghost eyes lock on the grip before he blinks, looking back up and leveling the Sergeant with a dead stare. Johnny laughs awkwardly and moves his limb back to his side. “Just…didn’t peg you for the type to start relationships.”

The Lieutenant turns down the aisle of chairs and lets out a bland, “negative. Leave it, Sergeant.”

Why did you react badly to the namesake you’d gone by for the entire time you’d been in Special Ops? Mutt was when everyone had called you when he had been around for that short time.

He felt no great concern for you – no hatred or care – you were just another Agent that would probably end up dead like everyone else. Another time, maybe, he’d have gone in a heartbeat, and if the team decided to go after you, he’d follow. A mission was a mission, it wasn’t like it largely mattered.

But there was something in the back of his mind. Intrigue? Yes, perhaps. The blue-eyed Lieutenant wasn’t one to dwell on these types of things, but a colleague was still a colleague.

Whatever the outcome, he’d do his job with all the ruthlessness and tact he always did.

Ghost’s hand goes up to fix the position of his mask and glances at the blank projector stream, eyes boring into it as they darken. A moment later, he was leaning against the ammunition crate that Price had previously been on, arms crossed and ears twitching at the ongoing battle of wills; isolated to himself as his intimidating form towers ever upwards. Spine straight. Bones stiff. Eyes grim.

You’d been nice to him – a person that, for the limited time he’d interacted with, had left an impression that was only just starting to come back full force. Smart and resourceful; not too bad on the eyes.

He takes down a sigh. Stubborn…but undoubtedly loyal.

His thumb brushes your cheek, and you look up at him as if he wasn’t the one in a mask – as if his entire being was laid bare before you. He swipes away the trail of blood with one firm press. The gentleness of your skin is known even through his glove.

“You’ll live, Sergeant.” He utters, teasing in his monotone voice, “now, where the hell are we goin’? Gun’s itchin’ to lay a few out.”

Ghost would have smirked at the way your eyes dilated if he had the ability, but in the end, he brushes past. Because if he hadn’t, you would have seen his own do the same.

‘Reaper,’ he frowns, feeling the ammunition crate dig further into his hip, they never called you that one.

Perhaps the real battle of wills was happening inside of him – not five feet away between his Captain and his Station Chief.

—

You remember every interaction like it was yesterday, and although he might not, you can’t help the memories from flooding as you gather your gear. Stuffing guns into duffel bags and intel into crossbody sacks that weigh you down like boulders.

Fuck, you open the back window and shimmy out into the back streets, knowing that your position is compromised and not waiting any longer to test your luck. Your side burns something awful; horrible stitches peeling back skin as you groan in pain. What the fuck was Ghost doing with Price? I didn’t know they knew each other. And the two other men in the room…eh. Not the problem right now!

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” you pant, swinging your legs out of the window frame and sharply inhaling when a suture tears. “I’m never in the loop.”

In all honesty, you don’t want to be – too complicated. It’s better to just stick around and be told what to do.

Glaring down at the ground with glazed eyes, you only take a breath of hesitation and let off a curse before dropping.

Your knees take the brunt of the force, and the ricochets of landing on cobblestones travel up your ankles and leave your legs shaking. If you weren’t running on adrenaline, you would have come up with a dirty joke to mutter to yourself.

The discomfort can only last so long, you tell yourself, and ignore the spreading liquid on your side, only thinking of Rigs and the mission.

And Ghost.

Gritting your teeth, eyes vulnerable, you turn down the backroad and stay away from others, drowning in memories more deadly than blood. It had been a while since you had thought of it – the lockbox in the back of your mind keeping all under tight watch; guard dogs with metal teeth and chained necks.

But that title; that namesake you’d scrubbed your skin raw over. Mutt and all the others said in cruel breaths. Oh…but Mutt.

Mutt was the worst of them.

Your hands were vibrating, the tremors traveling up your wrists and arms – past elbows and bruised flesh under skin; bloodied nose and quivering lips. Why did they always yell at you? But worse, why did they always make you do the dirty work?

The Captain, everyone just called him Alke, was standing in front of you, berating your accuracy on the last round of target practice. Fortunately, this deep into the Unit itself, you’d found a way to let it go in one ear and out the next, eyes as blank as a starless sky.

You could see the spittle flying from the man’s lips and some even splashes across your cheeks like acid, but there was something artful to the way you didn't react. A culmination of crafted numbness that bleeds like trauma. It was a constant, everlasting, void.

What they were making you into was not what you wanted, but what possible other option was there? Resign? No, this was nearly an unimaginable position to be in at such an age. You deserve to be here. Should you report the blatant unprofessionalism and favoritism in the ranks? And be blacklisted by these people's friends so that you never ascend the line?

Your ears twitch.

“...You’re not sleeping until your marks are perfect – else we’re overthinking your position in this Unit. Can’t have a Mutt in our ranks, can we?” The last sentence is punctuated with a ruffling of your hair almost like a brother would; teasing, but you know that isn’t what it symbolizes. Harsh laughs and mocking remarks from the bystanders. “Least of all one that’s gonna get us killed. Tch.” When you don’t answer, staring off in a daze at his nose in a perfect image of formation, the Captain raises an eyebrow. “Affirmative,” he smirks, “Mutt?”

“Sir!” Your mouth shouts, though the action is more instinctual as your back straightens. He frowns at that, perhaps wanting to torment you more, but huffs and files out, ordering the rest to follow with one last call.

“I expect you to be up for morning drills an hour early. I’ll be checking your shots myself.”

“Sir!”

After everyone’s gone, you blink back to reality. There’s a second of confusion, creases forming in your forehead at the sound of birds and blowing glass. Head turning side to side, your lips thin at the absence of others as if only realizing how spaced out you’d actually been.

Flashing teeth and heated eyes flash through your mind before you blink them away. Signing away the tense nature of your chest, you clear your throat and relax your legs. Your vision slides to the corners of the concrete dugout, snapping past sectioned-off areas for privacy to search if there was someone who might have stayed back.

Not finding anyone, your hands, clenched behind your back, loosen and fall limp to your sides like bags of rock. One weakly goes to swipe at the trail of blood from your nose, wrecking your already wrinkled sleeve with crimson; but soon an identical trail drips off your chin regardless. Licking your lips and tasting copper, you take a shaky breath and nod to yourself.

You knew what shooting all night would bring on – lesions under the firing pad covering your shoulder; deep-rooted pain leading to nerve damage later on. Blisters that leak puss and blood onto your bedsheets. Not to mention the mental strain, the bags under your eyes burn from lack of rest.

Gritting your teeth, you walk over the tossed rifle on the floor and pick it up with shaky fingers, the tips flinching back from the cool metal before encompassing it tightly.

Silently, you get on your stomach and set the weapon in the crook of your already pain-laced shoulder. Your blood splatters the stock.

—

It had been two weeks with no luck in finding Rigs, and you were starting to get paranoid.

Staring at the dead body tied to the wooden chair, you growl and tear your Dirk from the woman’s chest angrily.

There had been increased police patrols from all the corpses you were leaving, so you’d compromised and limited the chance of being caught at the same time.

Bergamo, Italy, was an ancient place, and the underground was what you were now both metaphorically, and physically, exploiting. Sewer systems. Catacombs. You’d lost track of the paths you’d taken a million times over, and had started to hate the constant darkness only kept back by the small hand lamp you’d stolen.

But there were ups to this constant downward slope.

It made interrogations increasingly easier to pull off with multiple feet of stone all around you. The screams don’t meet the surface.

“Catello Tullio,” you mutter, caressing your sensitive side with your free hand and placing your blade on a turned-over piece of rock. The area reeks of blood and gore, a stack of bodies chucked carelessly in the corner beginning to reek something awful; even as you have another to add to the count. It wouldn’t be long before the rats came in droves.

Another given name, another score. But this one was new. Apparently, the title of the one that took Rigs while he was out getting more rations in the market.

You point a finger at the slumped body, “you better hope I don’t find you in hell if you gave me the wrong damn name.”

Grabbing your light, you stalk off down one side of the tunnel back to your camp, dodging drag lines that strike your eyes with their crimson streaks.

The raggedy blanket and gun-sack you’d been using for a pillow take form in the dark, and somewhere in the corridor a rat squeals; feet pitter-pattering until it disappears altogether. You didn’t even want to think of the spiders living down here. Files and notes are strewn along the floor, perfect hiding places for eight-legged monsters.

You couldn’t do anything until nightfall. It was just too risky.

Massaging your side as you bend down, you grimace at the partially healed wound and scoop up your pistol before plopping to the ground with a grunt. With the deadly object held in your lap, you take a moment to breathe and try to push away a growing headache in the back of your skull.

“This has to be one of the worst Ops on record, huh?” your small voice speaks back to you in bouncing waves of echoes as you begin to fiddle over the gun's small grooves and dents. “How did you manage this, Reap?”

Smiling blandly, the overwhelming quiet and nothingness all around you is like a curse. And in those pockets of a void, your mind always trails to him – or at least it had been for your time on the run. Ghost. That dark and brooding mass of horribly bleak humor and…well…you couldn’t call him mean.

Your eyebrows furrow.

He was never mean to me.

There were soft instances where you would question yourself as to if the Brit had possibly had some affection for you. It wasn’t a long shared history of course, but you had sworn that there was something about the way he looked at you…something that you remember so vividly…

You shake your head and stand after a small while, stretching your feet. Placing your pistol in the back of your belt, the weight brings you dull comfort.

Shining your light on the hand-held radio on the ground in passing, you rove back to it after you scan the perimeter. Its black metal mocks you.

No one’s coming to help ‘cept you. One voice says, and another grunts out, get it together, Mutt.

You turn on your heel to go and take a breather to disperse your dark thoughts but only make it three steps before your eyes widen, lips parting in awe. Nearly falling flat over yourself, you whirl around in an instant.

A static enters the air as if the gods above were laughing at you - toying with your fate like it was a rock tossed to the sky. The familiar British drawl causes your chest to tighten, though the sentence is broken and barely understandable.

Someone’s here for me! A smile slashes your face – fierce hope lighting your eyes. You hadn’t wanted anyone to explicitly come for you, but this was a welcome discovery. Someone to talk to!

“--eper…Copy?” Darting like a cat, you move so fast that you stumble over rocks on the way there. “Lead…cafe…red cloth…Out.”

By the time you snatch the small black object, the garbled and firm tone has already shut itself up. Your mouth parts.

“Shit!” You yell, shaking the thing in your hand with an iron grip, hissing like a snake. You look above you at the cracked ceiling of stone and a growled accusation.“I’m too deep…Fuck. Gotta get up there if I want to be able to respond.”

But it hadn’t all been fruitless. Lead. Cafe. Red cloth. You clip the radio to your belt and make sure your shirt covers your weapon; pat your thigh and tell yourself to stop forgetting your Dirk everywhere before setting off in a jog. The light flashes over dead eyes and stiff bodies.

You snatch the blade off of the stone as you pass it, slipping it into your cut pocket and hearing the satisfying clink of it sheathing.

“Let’s just hope I don’t smell too bad…” You say aloud, chuckling, and listening as the sound echoes off the stone. If no other company, you still had the sound of your own voice.

You couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing. But, you were getting side-tracked.

A Cafe with red cloth, then. Not exactly the place you’d go for an intel swap, but if someone had been trying to contact you for more than a week, you’d imagine they were getting desperate at this point.

If I had known…you frown.

Thinking over the multiple blueprints and pictures of the city in your files, you go through your internal cabinet of knowledge for color schemes - not what you’d have thought you’d be using it for, but, oh well. A lead was a lead.

“Golositá!” You laugh, sudden glee on your face as you dodge a pile of large stones; lips peeling back as you take a fast corner. “Gluttony! Of course, that’s the place.”

The bustling business on the upper side of Bergamo with red table cloths as well as red awnings extending into the street. Anyone would be a fool to miss it.

Like blood lining the street.

You force yourself to run faster.

—

You met him last, despite being a Sergeant. The Captain had you up late last night yet again – running the forest trail this time rather than shooting. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it surprised him when you were still up early with the others; from the looks that he was giving you, you just decided that, yes, he was. Or he was just pissed he didn’t have an excuse to get rid of you.

Blinking away fatigue, you keep your stance relaxed as a gargantuan shadow comes to loom ahead of you.

The man everyone had whispered about called himself ‘Ghost’ and, if nothing more, was certainly intimidating. Shoulders wider than a bench, arms as rounded and as strong as boulders; not to mention the tattoos that made him look like he took cross-country motorcycle rides in his spare time. Tan tactical gear and dark patches for the SAS, the red and white British flag. Gloves covered his large hands, straps carried knives on his biceps and thigh. Something akin to a tan cape that was loose around his hidden neck.

But the mask was what really caught your attention; your head tilting with an innocence that no longer lives in you.

Skeletal. Half a visage of a dead and gone intimidation of humanity. Sewn into a hood of black cloth from which only the eye sockets were open…But the eyes there were no different than if the holes had been empty in the first place; as if the person inside was as dead as sun-bleached bone. Was a corpse piloting this suit?

Ice blue. Freezing blue. Harsh. Colder than a grip of a phantom, you thought as you blinked up at him, colder than the nights you would stay awake working yourself to death. You watched this Ghost’s chest move in a steady inhalation and you stuck out a busted-knuckle hand. Foolish, maybe, but there were worse things to be afraid of than a mask. Then of those eyes that made your spine shiver.

But you didn’t look away.

“Pleasure, Sir.” There was a moment of tense silence where your Captain, at Ghost’s side, was frowning at you silently. The man could say nothing as long as this SAS member was here to assist in your next Op overseas. At your sides, your colleagues on the tarmac shuffle on their feet like nervous penguins.

Ghost glances at your hand, and you try not to show how fast your pulse is running when his eyes leave a cold trail as they grace your split knuckles and torn nails. He ends with a slow look at your name patch.

“Sergeant.” He says and slips past without another word. His shoulder brushes against yours, and you inhale smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. Snickers bounce off air particles, striking your ears as an embarrassed heat rises to your cheeks, but that scent stays in your nostrils for days.

Your Captain scurries after.

“Erm, forgive, Mutt. She’s a helluva strange woman, that one.” You keep your sneer hidden, a hiss lodged in your throat and a twitching finger. But your anger isn’t directed at the masked beast that stalks away. That yapping bully of a Captain would hold all of it as long as you were here.

At that point, you were sure you’d seen the last of Ghost until the Op – not really getting the feeling he’s a people person so much as a ‘give orders and follow them’ type.

But that was fine by you, it didn’t change anything. You’d been told to go back to the firing range tonight for opening your mouth and ‘making an embarrassment of the Unit’....whatever that meant. All you did was welcome the guy with the barest hint of a good attitude.

You supposed manners were a foreign concept around here.

The world ahead of you was blurring, red circles in your eyes that gloss over with water every minute you force yourself to stay awake. The stars were out, sky dark, and the area was only lit by large lights situated around the base. In some sort of strange way, you enjoyed the sound of crickets and the cold breeze over your bare arms as if the only sense of peace you got was when you were half-passed out, nailing shots from a rifle.

The stock was where it always is, your cheek pressed to the side; staring down the scope at the multiple holes in the paper targets. Dots surrounded by multiple other dots like a slice of cheese. You suppose that made you the hungry mouse in that case.

‘A mouse with a fucking day before she drops.’ You frown, blink, and pull the trigger as the trees rustle. The force lands directly on your shoulder – the kickback is usually not one to bother you, but seeing as your appendage was one bad day away from being dislocated and forever damaged – you took it with a grit of your teeth.

And you took it because you knew you could. Just as you knew that you felt a pair of eyes on the back of your neck. Freezing, you remove your finger from the trigger and loosen your grip. Turning your head to the side, a free hand goes up and shifts the ear mufflers from your head to your neck in a single movement.

You swear your heart jumps to your throat when you see a skeleton’s icy blues numbly watching you; arms crossed while a nice-looking SA-B 50 Marksman Rifle sits against the wall at his side. How…long had he been there? Watching?

“What’re you doing, Sergeant?” Ghost asks sternly, that Manchester accent making him sound harsh. Grating like a rock being run against concrete. “I’m sure your Captain wouldn’t be thrilled at a scene like this, eh?”

Blinking, you remind yourself to breathe before answering – voice tough and hoarse.

“I have my orders, Sir. You’re free to join me.”

You turn back as a grunted huff falls from behind muted cloth. Ghost walks up to your laying form, standing on your left side and picking up the binoculars from the hanging hook in your station. As you look back through your scope you don’t know why, but you hold your breath; waiting for something.

“...Not a bad shot. You’re prone to firing more to the right, judging from the grouping. I’d fix that, less you miss a moving target runnin’ the opposite.” He lowers the object - staring from the side of his eye. From your position, your neck cranes to see his fingers twitch. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” For someone you’d expected to be quite harsh – though you had no doubt he still was – Ghost was more sarcastic in his mannerisms.

Backhanded comments that wound sting if you got on the other end of them.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sir.” Shifting your grip, you move the stock farther up your shoulder, feeling an immediate release of tension, though the expansive trauma still leaves needles in your tissue.

“Hm, pay attention and you just might learn something.” You feel yourself quirk a lip for the first time in months; your mouth doesn’t stop to think.

“You mentor a lot of people in the middle of the night, then?”

“Only the ones stupid enough to be awake.” He takes a step back, going to grab his own rifle as his footsteps don’t even make a sound.

‘Quiet for a guy with thighs that could choke me out.’

Your brows furrow at the heated thought, taking a slow breath and flexing your hands as the shadow disappears from over you. Why were your hands sweaty?

Were you…afraid? That…that wasn’t it.

“You’re up too, you know, Sir. Bit hypocritical.” This was the first time you’d had a full conversation with someone since you’d gotten in with this Unit. A mildly pleasant one, at least…you wouldn't really call this bonding.

“I can always leave ya’ to it, Sergeant.” Deadpanning the words, you clear your throat and fall silent at the threat.

‘No,’ you wanted to comment, ‘no, I want the company so badly it hurts.’

You swallow saliva and reposition your ear mufflers back over your head, heart bruising your ribs, as you bring down a calming breath of air to still your nerves.

The two of you don’t speak again, and you don’t ask why he takes the shooting cubby right next to yours, the nose of his rifle peeking out from the concrete wall. You certainly don’t ask why he’s up, either.

And in return, he doesn’t ask you the same.

—

When you find Golositá you’ve managed to sneak through the city unseen, taking every backroad and alley you could as the heat of the day increases to near sweltering. Panting, you stick to the thin shadows of the path across the street, eyes dancing over red cloth and flicking to faces; studying visages as one would a medical report.

Your chest hurts, and you run a hand over your side, feeling the raised skin under your shirt before digging into the aching ribs. All this running around and little food to help keep your normal strength was troublesome, and it would only get worse if this Op from hell continued.

I need new intel. Badly.

About to retreat, not finding anyone you recognize off the bat, a black-shrouded figure kisses the side of your vision as if a phantom.

On the outside table, the farthest removed, a man sits stiffly with an untouched teacup in front of him. Smirking, you can’t help but scoff at the thought of Ghost using the thing – you’d think his thumb and forefinger would break the delicate porcelain in an instant. Like a spine over his thigh.

Your cheeks heat.

He looked almost identical to what you remember – minus the gear, obviously – and your stomach twisted at the thought. Was a simple look enough to bring you to the breaking point? Why were your lungs tight?

As if feeling your stuck eyes, those icy blues shift from people-watching to lock onto yours immediately. As hollow as they always were, it seemed. He blinks and the blonde eyebrows on his sliver of visible forehead move.

Shit. Your hips trade weight. Look at you.

Loose shoulders under a rugged buttoned-down and painted balaclava make your breath go thin, not able to resist sneaking a glance at those tattoos you remember so vividly. Yes, that was still Ghost.

Jesus, is this how it felt to see someone you barely even remembered suddenly appear? Was it elation or caution that was making your heart race?

Ghost doesn’t look surprised. His eyes don’t widen; don’t soften or light up. They blankly watch you as you shake away the shock and raise a brow in return. A sarcastic finger goes to your head, and you mock salute.

What are you doing? You seem to ask, a mischievous expression growing as you start forward when he dismissively narrows his eyes. You look ridiculous. Are you asking to be spotted?

The man leans into the too-small chair he sits in, one hand going to hang off the back and the other resting on the tabletop. Gloved fingers tapping morse in slow measures.

Clear. Come here. He follows you with his gaze, head stationary, as you enter the flow of traffic, smiling at people at your sides and letting off polite greetings when you could. Steadily striding, you weave through groups and individuals like water, legs steady even as your ears pick up every little sound.

A comfortable middle point of visible excitement and strict business. Why were you so…happy?

When you approach Ghost’s table, you slip up beside him with a sly chuckle, pulling out the chair to his right. You, softy, lower yourself down into it, not turning to him but instead simply making sure no one had followed you with a quick scan. His heat only adds to the warmth of the day like a walk through damnation.

“Well, well, well,” you smile, addressing the SAS member with his shadow hanging over you once more; such a heavy thing, though you don’t mind. Your expression mellows to have it above you again. There was a safety to it, you had to admit. The cold comfort of death. “Trip to Italy, Sir? Take a little vacation?”

“Came to bail out a bird from my past,” You smell that scent again – smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. “And if I ever went on a vacation, I sure as hell wouldn’t pick this place. ‘Bout to burst into flames; traumatize a few kids and their mums.”

Hadn’t he changed even a little bit?

“Now that’s dark.”

“Never said it wasn’t.”

Of course he hasn’t, you answer your own question, feet shifting and skin pliable, why would he? He isn’t like me – didn’t have to reinvent himself based on atoms and in the wake of silent nights.

There was a piece of you that believed that Ghost had always been this way, though you knew it was false. Nobody in this profession was just born like this, they were led to it. Whoever it was under the mask or balaclava didn’t matter anymore.

They had died a long time ago.

“Not a fan of the history, Brit?” You tease, bringing up a hand to itch at your undereye, finally taking a peak at the form that nearly swallows you.

Your lids try not to peel back, but you didn’t realize how close you’d sat next to Ghost – any closer and you would be in the crook of his arm; the relaxed spread of his knee bumping into yours and arm over the back of your seat. Trying to act nonchalant, you ignore the strange swirling in your gut with a hum and a twitching of your leg.

Stop that.

“Don’t care a smidge, just not a fan of the damn heat.” The gruff man responds with his inked arm on the table flexing, as though he was tenser than he showed. Ghost clears his throat, “needs a good downpour, eh?”

“Try living underground for two weeks. Literally. Sun’ll feel like a blessing.”

“Fuckin’ hell…That’s why the radio wasn’t working, then.” While this was all cute – re-learning each other like a shaken puzzle – there were dangers to being this open. The Brit would be fine, but if you got spotted, well, there would be worse things to worry about than an achy side and a pile of bodies in a tunnel.

“You got something for me, or are we here just to stand out like bullet holes in a forehead?” Feeling his head tilt to you, snaking down your form, your body leans forward, palms sweaty as they lock on the table. “Price with you? The other two I saw on the feed?”

“Negative. Op in Belarus. Sent me in alone.” Your knees brush, delicately; like a touch of down feathers. You refrain from taking in a shallow breath, knowing he’s analyzing every movement with a hidden mouth and gentle huffs of air that rises his sculpted chest. Through a grunted sigh, Ghost tells, “The Old Man insisted. Laswell thought you’d be alright by yourself, regardless,” and falls silent.

What was he doing? Why was he talking with that rasp in his tone? Your heart swells at the comment about Kate, but a confusing feeling settles in your lower body. Why did the air feel thick?

The warmth of the sun was making your skin perspire, leaving a sheen of sweat over your arms. But the thought of heat stroke fled as you became hyper-aware of the man beside you, keeping careful not to touch you, though his gaze still bore into the side of your face like prodding fingers anyways.

He can’t quite figure you out, he admits to himself. So much of you was different – and he couldn’t tell how.

She’s lighter, he tightens his face, not the same as when I left.

But there had been an utter satisfaction when he’d seen you in that alleyway, even if you were different in a million ways, that would never change. Ghost’s body had loosened, his clenched jaw let go, and snappy answers to servers stopped entirely.

Because those were still the same colored eyes that he remembered. He takes a long breath.

Through the haze under your creased skin, a red alarm starts to sound off. Not because of the confusing way you felt the chilled form of Ghost on a near internal level, but because of the hooded individual across the street.

When your eyes lock, they back up three paces and bolt down the adjacent street, vanishing into the crowd. Your expression darkens, and Ghost shifts his attention from your face to the streets.

His eyes blankly follow where you were looking.

“Come on,” you get to your feet, hand snatching at the SAS member's sleeve, dragging him with you as a mother would a toddler. It was ironic – if he resisted, you wouldn’t be able to force him to move, not in a million years, but he slid off his chair with fluid muscles.

He doesn’t question you when he’s brought into an offshoot of the road, vacant of tourists or locals besides a stray cat and a few scavenger birds. Flies jump off garbage cans, buzzing through the air above your heads as you level Ghost with a serious stare.

You nearly stumble over your words when you get to look at those long blonde eyelashes that you remember heatedly, but push through as they move to half-lid his blank eyes. Your heart skips beats as you spare looks up and down the space.

What the fuck is going on with me? Focus. This is serious.

But, Jesus, he should really stop looking at you like that.

“You said you had a lead over the radio – anything on someone called Catello Tullio by chance?” You ask, voice like stone.

“Tullio?” Ghost hums in the back of his throat, all business, hips moving under him as he goes to glance at the street. His balaclava moves as he speaks. “Someone made a mention of it. ‘Fore I put a knife in ‘em, ‘o course.” Nodding, he huffs out, “On me.”

Turning on long legs, he starts to walk farther down the path, and you follow at his side, peering up and eager to gain more intel. “You’ve caused quite a panic around here, Sunshine. Cell’s terrified of the ‘Reaper.’ I’m nearly impressed.”

He briefly flashes an optic to you, heart betraying him as he remains locked on your lips. Rotating his jaw, he turns back forward.

“Oh, my,” smirking slowly, you roll your eyes, “whatever will I do without your approval, great Ghost.”

“Dunno – kick the bucket probably.” Shaking your head in false annoyance, the slow, mocking, stain in the man’s tone leaks into your very DNA; coating it with honey. Like a warm sunrise, you clock a small hitch in his chest and equate it to muted chuckles when you laugh.

“Don’t go placing bets, now. I’m not so easily broken.”

“Oh, wouldn’t think of it, Sweetheart. Wouldn’t be my handiwork if it happened,” his tone goes light, “don’t wanna take credit away from you.”

“Brit.” You spit with fake venom.

“American.” He grumbles back, but you clock the small spark in his iris, cold blue bouncing silver light like snow.

He sounded…entertained? Snide in a sarcastic way.

Your mouth rises in a stupid, dopey, grin as you stare from the side of your vision, chest jumping in easy comedy. What a strange pair you two were, but you find you liked his company even more, this time around.

Or maybe he had changed slightly. Or maybe it was just you.

At the end of the day, you were relieved that it was easy to talk to him. Conversations with corpses are a bit one sided, after all.

Ghost’s lips had to be at least quirked under that dark fabric to achieve mischief like what he was spitting out, you leveled with yourself. At the minimum, the man wasn’t annoyed he’d been forced out of his own primary mission because of you.

You remember he wasn’t averse to cracking jokes – particularly dark ones – but it had…it had never felt like his before.

Strange, you admit with a raised brow and a cocked head, cheeks burning for no apparent reason. You’d gotten him to chuckle? Holy hell, you deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for that. I’d think he would be pretty pissed about being sent here. He’s never been one to fuck around.

You both continue in easy silence until you decide to speak once more, intent on asking where you were being led.

Ghost’s head had perked up in what you assumed to be soldier-like attention, but then his head had whipped behind the two of you. Oblivious to his shift in mood, like a dark cloud, you open your mouth.

“Well, where are we–”

“--Get down!” Hands slap on the back of your arm and jerk you to the opposite wall as a loud echo rings out. Whizzing over your head so close that you feel the breeze of it.

Gasping, the air is expelled from your lungs in one fell swoop; your spine grating over the rough stone as your legs scramble to keep upright. Wiping away the shock quicker than an eraser over a whiteboard, your neck snaps to the problem; brain already hardwired to get over being shot at and the adrenaline that floods your veins immediately after.

Across the way, Ghost’s fast hand was reaching to the back of his outfit – without a doubt going to grab a concealed weapon. Eyes fiery and arms tight. And as though you were seeing it happen in slow motion, you lock onto the hostile in the middle of the alley back the way you both came. And then onto the hooded silhouette ahead of you.

Boxed in.

Hyperfocused, all of it happens in only three seconds, two trained professionals protecting each other without even realizing it.

One, you realize how this will have to play out if you don’t act immediately. You don’t know how you can trust Ghost to take the other hostile while you focus on the one ahead, but you don’t question it. Two, your gun lays heavy in your hand as your legs pivot. Three, you fire double shots with a loose finger and hear mirrored gunfire from the man beside you.

You don’t bother watching him drop.

Snapping your head backward with a rageful expression to see Ghost’s corpse hit the floor with a cracking of a skull, shouts start to ring over the city. When you lower your weapon, you turn to notice the Birt examining your own downed hostile with a satisfied stare. If you hadn’t had his back, he would have been shot in it.

But what you didn’t know was that he was thinking the same thing about you.

Turning to stare at each other, your widened eyes lock; fingers twitching along the cool X12’s metal as those stormy iris’ only seem to darken further when they dart to your lips. Like staring into a wild animal’s gaze and pretending you’re not in a trance because of it – stuck in that moment of infinity and nothingness with not a single muscle moving. Waiting for either a mouthful of fangs around your supple neck or for the beast to turn away with grace and practiced steps.

You swore Ghost’s mouth parted under that damned balaclava, but whatever he was going to say was lost when the world came back in a violent storm of screams. Panicking, you gape at the entrance – seeing multiple shadows shoving through the crowd to get to you.

“On me!” Keeping your pistol in one hand, you bolt, hearing heavy footsteps pounding behind you as your mind begins to run.

Ghost trails without a single doubt in his mind as to why he’s following you, and it makes him cautious.

Catacombs, you decide, get under the city and backtrack to the outskirts. Survey and have Ghost tell me his intel before making a move…yeah!

“Where are we headin'?!” Ghost shouts, keeping right your heels as you turn corners. Gunshots ring over your heads as you jump up small groupings of tile steps, blood pounding in your ears. You try to remember the maps you had stored in your files underground. Left…no, two rights. Shit! I need to be higher – see the streets like a bird would! “Reaper?!”

“Do you trust me?!” You call over your shoulder, and though it seems deranged, a smile forms over your lips. “I’ll need an answer in the next few minutes, yeah? I’m on a time crunch!”

“What are you on, Girl?” The adrenaline speaks to you, propelling your legs faster and faster. You vault over a fallen trash bin and take the shock to your ankles as it travels to your thighs. Snickering, you feel the brooding man’s presence like you always could – just beside you like a loyal hound. His focus excites you as you put your gun away in the small of your back. “Bloody hell! Not giving me a choice?”

“Not if you don’t want to get shot in the ass!” Taking one more right, you find yourself rapidly approaching a dead end, tall walls, a balcony, and a large dumpster – the flap already closed overtop. Not answering the man as he barks out a comment, you throw yourself atop it with a puff of breath and spasming lungs.

Laughing, your hands don’t falter. Reaching up with eager fingers, you grab at the black metal front of the balcony a small distance above and suck down a hot breath. Your arms strain, sickly sweet sweat on the top of your lip, and eyes wide with glee despite the gaining footfalls rising like a battlefield cry. Jerking your body up with only your upper-body strength, you slide your abdomen over the railing with barely a second passing. Once your feet are firmly on someone's property, you twist around and slap your hands to the metal with a twinkle in your vision; face wrinkled with all the animated amusement.

A wide grin is stuck on you.

Ghost stares up with slightly widened eyes from the ground, arms poised on the garbage bin.

Oh, hell, when she smiles like that…

“But I can’t judge, can I?” Teasing, you extend a helping grip with a smirk. “Everyone has their fetishes, hm, Ghost? Maybe yours is just having a gun pointed at you.”

He blinks at that, but knowing the urgency in the back of your throat, he pushes himself up with a grunt. You try not to watch his muscles strain, but spy the way the veins in his forearms grow larger as his alluring hips flex. They situate themselves under him as he crunches before straightening in an instant.

Fuck, don’t drool, you scold, lips lightly parted like seven devils were flying in the back of your mind. Jesus, imagine the weight those things can carry…shit. Wouldn’t mind losing my virginity to that.

A leather-coated hand slaps into your awaiting one. You snap back to a screaming reality and stare down into hypnotic sheens of ice and…wait…did Ghost have fucking green flecks near his pupils?

“You sure it isn’t yours, Sunshine?” He harshly comments, and his balaclava moves with a rising of his eyebrow.

Clearing your throat, you murmur a weak reply as your face begins to feel like a blazing fire, squeezing his limb before pulling. He chuffs. Grunting violently, you know he does most of the work in helping himself up, though the Brit still slaps your shoulder in comradery when he’s stable. Kneeling down, he forces himself into the wall behind the two of you, fingers weaving to create a cuff over his knee.

Tossing his head up, he motions with urgency.

“C’mon. Be quick ‘bout it.”

Catching one foot in the basin of his clutch, you force down your illicit thoughts about Ghost and jump, pushing off with your opposite leg on his shoulder and his added boost. Scaling the wall, you arch and scramble - with a growing bite in your side – to the terracotta-shingle roof.

Following after and checking your six, the beast of a man joins just in time.

Shadows dart around the corner far on the ground, and the both of you are speeding animals over the rooftops in the meantime. Against better judgment, boots pounding the tiles, you release loud bouts of genuine laughter.

How long had it been since you’d had such fun? Enjoyed someone else's company like this? Running across homes, you look at your side, only to find Ghost’s eyes already digging into you. Unrelenting. Unmovable. Panting, you smile brightly, giggles making your sides hurt something awful but your pace doesn't slow for an instant.

All it took was a glance at the streets – you know where you are now.

“Enjoying yourself, Reaper?” He asks, arms pumping and barely winded, and you wonder for a moment how he breathes under that covering of his – it had to smell horrible by the end of the day.

“For…the first time in ages, Ghost.” He chuckles at that, and it is a betrayal of his nature. How could someone so violent, so cloaked in oceans of blood, produce such a soft sound? A genuine sound that makes your stomach flip?

His bewitched eyes rove back in front of him, and he can’t deny the simplicity of speaking to you. It wasn’t a chore, just a conversation with a person who he wouldn’t mind having on 141 at his side.

There were few people worthy of that.

You swallow thickly and take point, leading the shadow of death to your home underground so you can re-evaluate.

You can only wonder why you don’t feel nervous as he watches over you, skin marked with horrors but his hand had fit so well in your own. And you also wonder how you can come to care for someone you haven’t seen in ages so quickly, as if you’d both been around each other for years.

Had you really ever forgotten him? Or just tried to push the affection, both emotional and physical, for him out? But that was the problem, you tell yourself with a clenched jaw, that physical attraction. All of that was just…tied into a million knots. Complicated.

You’d never had sex before.

And, Ghost questioned himself as he watched your legs move, did he forget you out of necessity? Because those eyes of yours won’t leave him alone, and he so very much enjoyed looming over you.

He sighs heavily and follows in silence.

—

When you first joined them, they all created rumors. This was long before you were permitted solo Ops, long before half of your file was filled and bleeding with black ink that would shame a warlord. When everyone just thought you were signed up because you were some unhinged kid, brimming with unchecked problems and willing to throw everything away just for the chance to prove yourself. Who got into it for kicks.

They would say you enjoyed it, killing. Reveled in it, really. That it got you off when you were covered in blood and crimson guts as they pooled at your feet.

You suppose that was what turned you away from sex in general – those heavy comments said with no remorse that stuck with you. It was fear almost, a genuine twisting of your mind to make it your fault. It wasn’t your fault, you knew that; you could sleep with anyone you wanted and the comments weren’t a brand on your skin.

You could forget about it. You should.

But the words were so mean. Just cruel for the sense of being cruel. And it stuck with you.

If that was all anyone would see, why try and force them to look away? You kept to yourself, never spoke unless spoken to, and shoved all of it down like a kill switch. No sex, no relationships. Nothing to make you think about the rumors.

Getting off on death? You were horrified at the concept, horrified that people would play around like that with you – with your life!

You just ended up telling yourself you wouldn’t feel it until it hurt too bad. In a way, you were right…but you can only force emotions down for a while until they break forward like a fist to the mouth.

Besides Mutt, they had many names for you – titles and backhanded monikers. Rabid. Demon. Devil. Monster. Sometimes, beast.

But they all had the same meaning. Inhuman. Wrong.

It shouldn’t have bothered you that much. It…It shouldn’t have made you stay up at night still thinking about the way they would laugh and pinch your arms as you were left shaking; drowning in gore not your own because they sent you into the heart of the Hot Zone for a few jokes. Teasing you about how you probably touched yourself because of it.

But it was just an excuse to make you too scared to leave. Your reputation…

“There’s that Devil for ya’, always ready to slit some more throats for us. You think you could do the next few, Mutt? You’ll love it, I know you will. I’ll give you a good report if you do it without alerting the guards – see there… ‘Course you will. Fucking freak.”

Your eyes stare forward blankly, Dirk leaving a dotted fluid trail over the dusty ground.

Why did they do this to you?

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rootedinrevisions · 3 days

Text

Enough for You: Part 4

SUMMARY: The next day unfolds as a perfect day for you and Tyler, starting with a lazy morning spent wrapped up in each other before venturing out for coffee. You stroll through town together, enjoying the relaxed pace as you shop and explore, savoring the simplicity of each other's company. Back home, the day ends with the two of you making dinner and dancing in the kitchen, the playful moments turning into something more intimate. As the night deepens, the connection between you strengthens, leading to another night spent together, the bond between you and Tyler growing even deeper.

WARNINGS: Fluff. 18+ Smut. (Female Receiving Oral, P in V Sex)

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3

NOTE: There will be a FINAL part coming soon! I have it mostly written and just need to finish editing it. Hope you enjoy! xx

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The soft glow of morning light filters in through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. Tyler stirs first, his eyes fluttering open as he becomes aware of the comforting weight of your body resting against his. His arm is still loosely draped over your waist, holding you close, and he takes a moment to just watch you, the peaceful rise and fall of your chest as you sleep, your face relaxed and serene.

A small smile tugs at his lips as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your cheek. You stir slightly but don’t wake, so Tyler moves lower, his lips brushing the curve of your neck. He lingers there, his kisses gentle and unhurried, each one filled with affection.

You let out a sleepy sigh, your eyes slowly fluttering open as you feel his lips trailing over your skin. A soft giggle escapes you as his stubble tickles your neck. “Mmm… morning,” you mumble, still half-asleep, but already smiling.

“Morning,” Tyler murmurs against your skin, his voice low and rough from sleep. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression soft as he gazes down at you. “Sleep okay?”

You nod, still nestled comfortably against him. “Best sleep I’ve had in a while,” you admit, your voice thick with the remnants of sleep.

Tyler’s lips curve into a small smile, and his hand moves to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. “Your bed hair’s got a mind of its own this morning,” he teases, his fingers combing lightly through your tousled locks.

You let out a playful groan, burying your face in his chest. “Like you’re one to talk,” you mumble, your voice muffled against him.

Tyler chuckles, his chest vibrating against you as he tightens his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Fair enough,” he admits with a grin, his own hair sticking up at odd angles from a night of sleep.

You lift your head, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you reach up to run your fingers through his hair, attempting to tame the mess. “There. Better,” you say with a satisfied smile, though it’s clear you’ve only made it worse.

Tyler laughs, shaking his head. “Sure, if that’s what we’re calling it.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, his laughter fading into something softer, more intimate. The kiss is slow and unhurried, the kind that makes time feel like it’s standing still, with only the two of you wrapped up in each other.

When he pulls back, he looks at you with a tender expression, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “I could stay like this all day,” he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth.

“Me too,” you whisper back, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. You feel so content, so at peace in this moment—like everything you’ve ever wanted is right here, in his arms.

For the next hour, the two of you stay wrapped up in each other, tangled in the sheets and pillows, sharing quiet conversations and even quieter kisses. Tyler jokes about the night before, teasing you about how you’d hogged the blankets, and you fire back with a playful comment about his snoring. The banter is light, the laughter easy, but beneath it all is a tenderness, a sense of comfort that neither of you wants to let go of.

Every now and then, Tyler leans in to steal another kiss, each one a little longer, a little deeper, as if he’s trying to savor the feeling of having you close. His fingers stroke gently along your arm, your back, your side—wherever he can reach—just to remind himself that you’re really here.

At one point, you shift so that you’re lying on your side, facing him. “What?” you ask with a smile, noticing the way he’s looking at you.

“Nothing,” Tyler replies, his voice soft. “Just... I like waking up with you.”

Your smile widens, and you press a kiss to his lips, soft and lingering. “I like waking up with you too.”

You both fall silent after that, but it’s a comfortable silence—one filled with shared smiles, the soft rustling of sheets, and the occasional kiss, until the world outside your bedroom slowly starts to come alive.

Eventually, the soft warmth of the morning and the comfort of being wrapped up in each other give way to the realization that the day is waiting. Tyler shifts beneath you, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before murmuring, “As much as I’d love to stay here all day, we probably should get up.”

You groan playfully, burying your face in his chest. “Do we have to?”

He chuckles, his hand running up and down your back soothingly. “Unfortunately, yeah. how about we get some coffee?”

That perks you up a bit. You lift your head to meet his gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. “I like coffee.”

With a shared laugh and a few more stolen kisses, the two of you finally untangle yourselves from the sheets. You get dressed, slipping into something comfortable for the day, while Tyler pulls on his jeans and t-shirt, the casualness of the morning suiting the easygoing nature of your time together.

Before long, you’re out the door and walking hand-in-hand to a nearby coffee shop—a small, cozy place you’ve been to countless times. As you approach, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, and you both quicken your pace slightly, eager for the first sip.

The barista greets you with a warm smile as you step up to the counter. You don’t even need to ask Tyler what he wants—you already know by heart. “I’ll have an Iced Chai please. He’ll have one black coffee with a shot of espresso,” you say with confidence, then add your own order.

Tyler watches you with a raised brow, a grin forming on his lips. “I see you still remember my order,” he teases.

You flash him a playful smile. “I’ve known it for months now. Don’t think I’ll forget it in a week.”

After paying, you both grab a seat at a small table by the window. The coffee shop is quiet, with only a few other customers scattered about, creating the perfect atmosphere for a laid-back morning. When your drinks and pastries arrive, you hand Tyler his coffee with a knowing look.

He takes a careful sip, and the moment the coffee hits his taste buds, his eyes light up, and a broad smile spreads across his face. “Now this is what I’ve been missing,” he says, his voice full of appreciation. “First good coffee I’ve had all week.”

You laugh softly, pleased with yourself. Tyler sets his cup down and reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. His thumb strokes gently over your knuckles, and his smile softens into something more intimate. “You really do know me that well, huh?”

“I know a few things,” you reply with a grin, your heart swelling at the easy, familiar rhythm you’ve already fallen into with him.

As you both enjoy your drinks, the conversation flows effortlessly, punctuated by the occasional shared laugh. Tyler tells you stories from his latest trip—his coffee mishaps, Boone’s questionable song choices, and the one time they nearly got lost trying to navigate the backroads. His storytelling is animated, and you can’t help but laugh along with him, the sound of his deep chuckle making you feel more at ease than you have in days.

“Sounds like I missed out on some quality chaos,” you say with a smirk, taking a bite of your pastry.

Tyler nods with mock seriousness. “Oh, absolutely. But don’t worry, we saved plenty for next time.”

You take another sip of your coffee, watching as Tyler talks animatedly about the chaos on the road. His comment about “next time” sticks with you, and you raise an eyebrow playfully.

“Next time, huh?” you say, pretending to mull it over. “Who says I’m going back?”

Tyler’s laughter falters mid-chuckle. His smile fades slightly as his brows knit together, his confident exterior slipping just for a moment. “Wait—what do you mean? You’re not…?” He stutters, clearly trying to process what you just said, his usual easygoing demeanor shaken.

You bite your lip, fighting back a grin as you watch him stumble over his words. “I mean, what if I just stayed home? Couldn’t you guys handle it without me?”

Tyler leans back in his chair, still trying to recover. His hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, something he only does when he’s genuinely thrown off balance. “Well, I mean, we could, but—” He pauses, then shakes his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Wait, are you serious right now?”

You hold the straight face for just a second longer, enjoying seeing him a little flustered. But when his expression shifts from confused to mildly concerned, you can’t keep it up anymore. You burst into laughter, finally putting him out of his misery. “I’m just messing with you, Tyler! Of course, I’m coming back.”

Tyler blinks, then lets out a deep sigh of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he shakes his head with a chuckle. “You really had me there for a second,” he admits, his hand resting over his chest as if to calm his racing heart. “I thought I was going to have to beg you to come back.”

You grin, leaning in across the table. “Well in that’s case…maybe I need to rethink and tell you I’m staying home again,” you tease, enjoying the rare moment of Tyler being thrown off his game.

His smile returns, warm and genuine, as he reaches for your hand again, his fingers lacing through yours. “Well, I’m glad I won’t have to. Seriously though… I’m glad you’re coming back.”

There’s a sincerity in his voice that makes your heart skip a beat, and you feel the depth of his words in the way his thumb brushes gently against your skin. He looks at you with that same intensity, the weight of his feelings behind his eyes, and it’s hard not to feel the warmth spreading in your chest.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply softly, squeezing his hand in return.

Tyler’s smile widens, his earlier nerves long gone, replaced by that familiar confidence you’ve come to love. “Good,” he says, “because I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Boone’s playlist for another week”

After you finish your coffees, you and Tyler decide to venture around your neighborhood. The conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about everything and nothing—recapping the week’s chaos, reminiscing about old memories, and making plans for upcoming chases.

You wander through quaint little shops, discovering hidden gems and quirky finds. Tyler is attentive, holding the door open for you, laughing at your playful comments about the knick-knacks you come across, and offering to carry your purchases. There’s a sense of rediscovery in the afternoon, not just of the town, but of each other.

You find yourselves strolling through a nearby park, the path lined with trees and dotted with families and couples enjoying the day. Tyler catches your eye as you pause to admire a particularly vibrant tree, his gaze softening with a small, contented smile. When you look back at him, you see that he’s watching you with a look of genuine happiness, like he’s seeing you for the first time in a new light.

There’s an ease in the way he moves beside you, an unspoken understanding that this is where he wants to be. Occasionally, you catch him glancing at you when he thinks you’re not looking, a smile playing at his lips. It’s a reminder of the comfort and joy he finds in your presence, and it makes your heart swell.

As the afternoon light begins to fade, you both continue to explore, savoring the simple pleasure of each other’s company. The day feels like a dream, filled with laughter, shared moments, and a renewed sense of connection.

After a day of exploring, Tyler drives you back to his place. The drive is lighthearted, filled with easy conversation and laughter. When you arrive, he tells you to make yourself comfortable while he showers and changes into something fresh. You nod and settle into his cozy living room, draping a blanket over yourself as you sink into the couch.

A little later, Tyler comes downstairs, looking relaxed in a simple shirt and jeans. He takes a seat next to you on the couch, and you move your legs to make room for him, before resting them gently on his lap. Tyler's hand naturally finds its way to your knee, and you feel a pleasant warmth as he makes himself comfortable.

There’s a moment of peaceful silence, with Tyler’s thumb gently brushing your leg. You glance up at him, and he looks back at you with a soft smile. The evening feels intimate and comforting, filled with the quiet hum of contentment.

Tyler breaks the silence with a casual tone. “So, now that we’re together and all, have you thought about how this is going to work with the team and the traveling?”

You smile, appreciating his straightforwardness. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too. It’s definitely something we need to figure out.”

Tyler looks thoughtful for a moment. “I was thinking, maybe we should just be honest with the team. They’re going to figure it out at some point anyway, right? But we don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

You nod in agreement. “We should probably just keep it low-key until we’re ready to talk about it.”

Tyler grins, clearly relieved. “Sounds good to me. I just want to make sure we’re both on the same page. I’m in this for the long haul, you know.”

You give his hand a gentle squeeze. “I am too. It feels really good to just talk this out and be on the same page. It makes everything seem a lot clearer.”

Tyler leans back, his smile growing. “Yeah, it does. It’s nice to just be here with you and know we’re figuring this out together.”

The conversation shifts back to lighter topics as you both relax into the couch. You chat about your favorite movies, make jokes about the day’s adventures, and share little stories. The easygoing vibe of the evening continues, making you both feel even more connected.

As the sun sets and the evening light filters softly through the windows, you and Tyler decide to stay in for dinner again. This time, you both agree on a little culinary adventure—something a bit more ambitious than the simple pasta from last night. Tyler suggests trying a new recipe he found, and you happily agree, eager to explore the kitchen together.

You set out the ingredients on the counter, and Tyler rolls up his sleeves and gets ready to help. “Alright, Chef,” he says with a grin, “what’s the game plan for tonight?”

You laugh, handing him a couple of vegetables to chop. “You’re on sous-chef duty. I’m taking the lead, so just follow my instructions and try not to mess things up.”

Tyler feigns offense but takes his role seriously, chopping and stirring with exaggerated care. The kitchen is filled with the sound of chopping and the occasional clink of utensils, punctuated by your playful banter.

“So,” Tyler says as he adds a pinch of salt to the pot, “what’s the craziest recipe you’ve ever tried?”

You think for a moment, a smile playing on your lips. “There was this time I tried to make homemade sushi. It was a disaster. The rice was too sticky, and the rolls fell apart. We ended up with a pile of sushi salad instead.”

Tyler laughs, shaking his head. “Think I’m glad I missed out on that meal.”

As you both continue cooking, the conversation flows naturally from light-hearted stories to more meaningful topics. Once dinner is ready, you set the table and sit down to enjoy your meal together.

After finishing dinner and clearing away the dishes, you and Tyler decide to wind down with some music. Tyler sets up the Bluetooth speaker in the living room while you head to the couch, pulling out your phone to show him the playlist you’ve saved.

“I made this for you awhile back,” you say with a smile. “It’s full of your favorite songs.”

Tyler raises an eyebrow, clearly touched. “I didn’t know you kept track of my favorite songs.”

You laugh, feeling a warm glow at his reaction. “Well, I try to pay attention. Now, let’s see how well I’ve done.”

As the first song starts playing, you both settle onto the couch, letting the melodies fill the room as a background for your conversation.. Tyler pulls you closer, resting his arm around your shoulders. You start swaying gently to the music, feeling the comfort of his embrace.

An upbeat song came on, prompting Tyler to stand up and grab your hand with a mischievous grin. "C'mon."

You look up at him, a confused look spreading across your face. “What are you doing?”

“Dance with me?” He said, continuing to hold out a hand to you.

Laughing, you let him spin you around the kitchen. Your feet easily found the rhythm, and soon enough, you were dancing across the floor, Tyler’s hand firmly at your waist, guiding you with effortless ease. The energy between you felt vibrant, playful, and carefree—just two people enjoying the moment. You were laughing, teasing each other when one of you missed a step, and it felt like everything else had melted away.

Then, a slower song drifted in, the kind that made the air feel a little heavier, more intimate. Tyler’s hand slid from your waist to your back, pulling you a little closer as his movements slowed. He didn’t need to say a word. The moment naturally shifted from playful to something deeper, quieter. You rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, swaying together in the dim kitchen light. The feel of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, the warmth of his arms around you, made everything else disappear.

Tyler’s hand gently moved up your back, his fingertips brushing your skin lightly as if he wanted to memorize every part of you. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, and the look in his eyes was filled with something you couldn't quite put into words. His thumb brushed softly against your cheek, and without breaking eye contact, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

It started slow and tender, the kind of kiss that says everything words can’t. But soon enough, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more hungry. His hands slid from your waist to your hips, pulling you closer against him. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you leaned into him, your fingers threading through his hair. The kitchen seemed to vanish around you, leaving just the two of you, caught up in the intensity of the moment.

Tyler broke the kiss for just a second, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. “Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice husky but laced with care, as though he wanted to make sure you were right there with him.

You nodded, your breath coming out shaky but full of certainty. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered.

With that, something shifted between the two of you. Tyler’s lips found yours again, more passionate this time.

As the kiss deepened, you felt the world fall away, leaving only Tyler’s warmth and the softness of his lips against yours. Without breaking away from you, Tyler's strong arms slipped beneath you, lifting you effortlessly. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your lips still locked in a heated kiss as he carried you down the hallway toward the bedroom. Every step was slow, deliberate, as though he was savoring every second, refusing to rush a single moment. The way his hands cradled you, steady and gentle, made your heart race with anticipation.

When he finally reached the bed, Tyler lowered you onto it with such care that it made your breath catch. He hovered above you, and for a moment, just looked down at you, his eyes searching yours. "You don’t have to…" he began, his voice low but tender.

You shook your head, cutting him off with a quiet but firm whisper. "I want this. I want you."

Tyler’s eyes darkened with desire, but his focus never left your face as you pulled him down into another kiss, more urgent now, fueled by the heat between you. His hands slid down the curves of your body, mapping every inch of you as if he needed to commit it to memory. You shivered under his touch, his hands dipping lower to the hem of your shirt, where he began pushing it upwards, his fingertips grazing your skin in the most tantalizing way. The kiss broke only long enough for him to pull your shirt over your head and toss it aside.

He paused to admire you for a beat, before his mouth was on you again—pressing slow, deliberate kisses along your shoulders, your collarbones, and further down your chest. His mouth moved between the cups of your bra, each kiss setting your skin alight. As his lips continued their trail down your stomach, stopping just above the waistband of your jeans, you felt your body ignite with anticipation.

But Tyler didn’t rush. He gave you another lingering kiss, his tongue softly teasing yours as your fingers found the buttons of his flannel. You paused for just a second, smiling to yourself. You loved the way he looked in his favorite red flannel, but you knew you might like it even more off him. You quickly began unbuttoning it, eager to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. Tyler shrugged out of the flannel, tossing it carelessly to the floor, and the moment it was gone, your hands were on him, running down his chest and tracing the hard lines of his muscles.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice husky but full of concern. His thumb brushed your cheek, his gaze intense but careful.

You nodded without hesitation, smiling softly. "I’m sure."

His lips curved into a smile before he kissed you once more, this time with more urgency. As his hands moved lower, they found the button on your jeans, swiftly popping it open. He slid them down your hips, leaving you in nothing but the black lace bra and matching underwear. His eyes darkened as he took you in, his breath hitching just slightly.

"God, you’re beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with admiration.

Without another word, Tyler shed his own jeans, his belt clattering to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs. He crawled back onto the bed, his lips meeting yours again, but this time his hands were more eager. One hand slipped behind your back, and with a single motion, he expertly unclasped your bra. You barely had time to wonder how he’d gotten so good at it before his mouth moved to your breasts. His warm lips wrapped around one of your nipples, while his rough, calloused hand cupped the other, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your head fell back against the pillow, a soft moan escaping your lips, and the sound seemed to drive Tyler crazy. "I could listen to that all night," he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with raw desire.

As his mouth worked on your breasts, one of his hands slipped down to the fabric of your underwear, teasing you through the lace. You instinctively rolled your hips, desperate for more friction, more of him. Tyler chuckled softly, pulling away from the kiss to look at you with that familiar smirk. "Needy, huh?" he teased, his voice deep and low.

Your breath hitched at the thought of him between your legs, and the soft groan you let out gave you away. Tyler’s eyes flashed with desire. Without a word, he moved to kneel at the edge of the bed, his hands firmly gripping your hips as he pulled you down to meet him. In one swift motion, he slid your underwear off, tossing them aside, and then spread your legs with a gentle, yet commanding, touch.

He leaned in slowly, his eyes meeting yours before he delivered one excruciatingly slow lick up your folds. You whimpered at the tease, your body arching toward him, desperate for more. Tyler grinned up at you, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "Patience, baby" he murmured, before leaning in again, his tongue moving with more purpose now, drawing out soft moans and gasps as he worked, making you feel as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you and the heat building between your bodies.

Tyler didn’t stop until he felt you trembling beneath him, your body arching into his touch as you reached your climax. His mouth continued its relentless work, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until you were a mess of gasps and moans. When he finally pulled away, you watched through half-lidded eyes as he wiped his face with the back of his hand, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Crawling back up the bed, he hovered over you, his hands gently brushing stray strands of hair from your face as he looked down with concern. "You okay?" he asked softly, his thumb tracing your cheek in slow, comforting strokes.

You nodded, still catching your breath, your body buzzing from the high. "I’m more than okay," you whispered, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. But there was more—something deeper pulling at you, and you met his gaze, your voice soft but full of need. "I want to feel you."

Tyler’s expression shifted, he pulled back slightly, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand for a condom. You watched as he tore open the wrapper and rolled it on, his eyes never leaving yours as he prepared for the next step.

He leaned back down, positioning himself at your entrance again. Slowly, he slid into you, the feeling so overwhelming that both of you let out a low groan at the same time. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed all the way inside you, your body adjusting to the fullness, and you felt his grip tighten on your hips, his strong hands grounding you in the moment.

He paused for a beat, letting the two of you savor the closeness before he started to move, his hips pulling back slightly before he began thrusting again. His movements were slow at first, deliberate and gentle, as though he was savoring every inch of you. The sensation was almost too much—each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Your hands found their way to his back, your fingers digging into his skin as you held on to him, anchoring yourself to the moment. Tyler picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more sure, more powerful, and you couldn’t help the way your body responded to him, your hips rising to meet his rhythm.

The room filled with the sound of your soft moans mingling with his heavier breaths, both of you lost in the moment. You could feel the pressure building again, an undeniable heat pooling low in your stomach. Tyler must’ve felt it too, because his pace quickened, each thrust more urgent, more insistent.

You moaned his name, and that seemed to drive him over the edge. His hands moved to cradle your face as he pressed his forehead against yours, his voice rough with desire. "I’m close," he muttered, his breath ragged.

You nodded, unable to form words as your own climax started to build. The tension coiled tighter and tighter inside you, and when you finally fell over the edge, it hit you like a wave crashing through your body. Tyler groaned as he felt you tighten around him, and a moment later, he followed you, his body shuddering as he found his release, buried deep inside you.

For a few moments, the two of you just stayed there, tangled together, your bodies pressed close as you both came down from the high. Tyler’s forehead was still resting against yours, both of you panting softly, hearts racing in sync. Slowly, he pulled out of you, collapsing beside you with a heavy but contented sigh.

The silence that followed was comfortable, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets and your combined breaths. You turned your head to look at him, a lazy smile spreading across your face as you met his eyes. Tyler looked equally dazed, his chest still rising and falling as he caught his breath.

"That was…" you began, but you couldn’t quite find the right words.

"Yeah," he chuckled softly, reaching over to lace his fingers with yours. "That was something."

For a while, neither of you said anything. You just lay there, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence, that hazy afterglow wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

Tyler shifted, pulling you closer so you were curled up against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, strong and reassuring beneath your ear. As you drifted into a peaceful silence, you couldn't help but smile to yourself.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Tyler Owens Smut

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eoieopda · 2 years

Text

blindsided (myg)

After years of dating, you thought you had Min Yoongi all figured out - you didn't. And when he flipped the script on you, you never saw it coming.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader | Darksided AU Type: Sequel to darksided. Word Count: 6K Content: SMUT (18+ - Minors DNI,) established relationship au, POV switch, softbf!yoongi turned dom!yoongi, sub!reader, sex tape, oral sex (f receiving,) v fingering, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, squirting, multiple orgams, over-stimulation, spanking, biting, blindfold, praise kink, pussy slapping, general depravity, aftercare, fried chicken. A/N: Seriously, go read darksided (linked above) if you haven't yet. This takes place approx. two weeks later, and while the context isn't necessary, things will make more sense! Check out the playlist while you’re here. Tags: @exhibitachol @sstarryoong @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @miraculous-disaster @wakeupinahaze

For the first time in his life, Yoongi was avoiding his studio.

He had a mountain of work left to do on his mixtape – and, importantly, the drive to finish it – but that was precisely why he’d stayed away. Anytime he stepped foot inside over the past two weeks, his mind wandered far, far away from the task at hand. His previously unyielding discipline fell by the wayside the second he crossed the threshold.

Instead of focusing on the tracks he had yet to write, or perfecting the ones he'd already recorded, his eyes would roam over the surface of his desk on the other side of the room. It'd since been returned to its usual state, covered in various notebooks, and recording equipment. But it looked so much better with your bare, sweat-slicked body writhing on top of it.

And when he'd finally muster the willpower to look back at his computer, his gaze would pass over - and then jerk back to - the wall he’d pinned you against as his fingers fucked a river out of you. His blood pressure would spike as he pictured you there, relying on him to hold you upright, and any hope of accomplishing anything would drop dead on the floor.

The very same floor you’d fastidiously scrubbed to erase the mess he’d made of you, no less.

And then he’d think to himself: This isn’t a workspace anymore - it’s holy ground.

Yoongi was running out of time, though, and he had to do his best to keep his mind on his work, off of you. Catching himself once again rewinding through recent memories, he let out a groan and forced his wandering eyes back to the screen in front of him.

He realized as he scrolled through his editing software that he’d done a piss-poor job of labeling his masters lately. This, of course, made it impossible for him to remember which track was which. On a whim, he chose the file in the middle of the folder and brought it up.

If he’d paid attention to the size of the file, he could’ve prepared himself for the consequences of pressing ‘play' - but he didn’t and he wasn't.

“I really couldn’t love you more if I tried.” "Should I shut it off now until you're ready to start?" "I can cut it down. I do need you to cue the track, though - when I signal you."

Biting down hard on his bottom lip, he secured his headphones over his ears. He’d never been less interested in hearing his own music; so, without a second thought, he skipped over the next three minutes. As he did, his hand dropped down to palm his hardening dick through his jeans.

“Is it me, baby? Have I got you dizzy?”

Your little whimpers were barely audible in the recording, but they still managed to ignite a fire in the pit of his stomach. The blaze spread throughout his body when he pictured the way you looked below him then - so soft and shy, but with such carnal desire sparking in the dark of your eyes.

“I can’t give you what you want if you can’t tell me what that is.”

Anticipating your next line, his hand tensed around his cock. It was a pale imitation of that vice grip he found between your thighs, but it was something; and he would've taken anything.

“I don’t want you to be gentle with me. I - I know that you -”

Even caged between the walls of unimaginable heat, the irony of it all wasn't lost on him. The best recording he'd ever produced was created purely by accident -

“Stupid girl. You know nothing.”

- and it wasn't music at all.

“Get up.”

With Yoongi working hard on his creative pursuits, you begrudgingly committed to addressing your own. Like him, you had a to-do list long enough to circle the globe; but unlike him, you weren't buried in projects because you wanted to be.

When Yoongi crossed off a task, he scribbled five more in its place. His mind never idled because he found inspiration everywhere. A half-remembered vignette from childhood that shook itself loose to become something beautiful. A word he encountered in passing that he’d transform into some modern-day epic. He generated this much work solely because his passion - like his potential - was limitless.

To the contrary, you generated this much work because you were easily distracted. You’d start one project, and before you could finish it, your attention would flutter off on the wind like dandelion seeds. All those half-starts would stockpile until you eventually boxed yourself into a corner - and then, somehow, you'd keep stacking.

Today's task was simple: you needed to transfer your recent photos from your camera's memory card to your laptop. Easy. Drag files from one folder to another, and then your contribution to this month's magazine spread would be finished. It should've only taken an hour - at most - for the upload to complete.

Instead of doing what you intended, you ended up where you always did: happily lost in the weeds. This particular distraction was a folder from four years ago, when Yoongi took you on an anniversary trip to Paris. If you really had to defend this tangent, your scattered brain's game of word association wasn't far off - the photos you were supposed to tend to were from Paris Fashion Week.

That counts for something, right?

You snorted as you toggled through your archive. Had you taken a single photo of the stunning architecture, or countless historical sites you’d visited? Of course not. But you had snapped approximately one-hundred shots of an unaware Min Yoongi - buying you macarons; befriending a stray cat by an ATM; grimacing as he sipped wine you both hated but spent too many Euros on to waste.

Wait, what were you supposed to be doing?

Whatever it was, you’d swear up and down that you really did intend to finish it, but then you heard familiar, muffled footsteps. And then you felt the mattress dip slightly under the tops of your thighs and the elbows you’d propped yourself up on.

And then the same Min Yoongi whose face beamed on your screen - slightly older, and even more adored - slid over the backs of your outstretched legs until his knees came to rest at either side of your ass. His body was warm as it loomed over you, but you shivered, nonetheless.

Leaning in, he pushed your hair over your right shoulder and pressed a warm kiss into your left. Though he'd targeted an area several centimeters away from your spine, the aftershocks of this chaste contact rippled down its length. From there, the current divested and shot through each of your limbs, paralyzing you.

You hummed and let your eyelids flutter shut. He ascended the arc of your shoulder, then your neck, leaving a smattering of kisses in his wake until the trail went cold. His quiet exhale tickled the skin below your ear, but he hovered in place - too far away.

Reflexively, you whined and tilted your head to look at him. Effectively pinned, all you could do was survey his profile in your peripheral vision. “Baby?” You nudged.

The hand he wasn’t using to hold his weight snuck under the hem of your tank-top and caressed the bare curve of your waist. His hypnotic ministrations on your side might’ve lulled you to sleep if you weren’t so intrigued by his so-far wordless affection.

Thoroughly spellbound, your lids closed again while your lips remained parted. There was a moan building slowly in your chest, taking its time, but it was a gasp that tore out of you when his teeth nicked your lobe. His tongue was quick to soothe the pinch, and even quicker to solicit a mewl.

You had no idea where this was coming from. Moreover, you didn't know what additional surprises this man was capable of. Though Yoongi had always been affectionate with you, he'd only recently unearthed some rare, raw sensuality that you never expected. In the time since this discovery, his touches became more frequent. You felt more of him underscoring each one, no matter how brief.

The fingers skimming over your waist disappeared and left you cold, but before you could process the loss, they reappeared - lower now, pushing up the bottom of your underwear, and gripping the doughy cheek of your ass. Hard. Instantaneously, your hazy eyes re-opened.

Min Yoongi truly contained multitudes.

"Have I told you that you're my muse?" He purred into the shell of your ear as his hand massaged the skin he'd likely bruised.

Enchanted once again, your sole response was a breathy moan. Only after his hand raised and smacked back against your ass did you realize he'd lulled you into a false sense of security.

"When I ask you a question, I want an answer. Do you understand, baby?"

Your shuttered breaths and accompanying nod weren't sufficient replies. His palm collided with your delicate cheek a second time, and it stayed there. The sting was muted by his fingers digging in and pinching; but it wasn't the pain that stole your attention.

Instead, it was the wetness gushing between your clenched thighs when he whispered, "Use your words, angel."

"I do," You muttered urgently, "I understand."

The grip on your ass dissolved. You knew better now than to trust the warm hand kneading your cheek, but you couldn't resist moaning. Fuck - his touch was perfect.

He contradicted the gentle caress below with a nip at your neck; and the kiss placed at that same spot preceded the true kill-shot. He hummed against your skin and your soul threatened to leave your body:

"Good girl."

The noise that escaped your mouth was stranded between a gasp and a cry. Oh, this man would be the death of you.

"You inspired my next project today," He murmured between kisses to your neck. The tip of his nose was cold as it brushed across your skin and that disparity in temperature left you in shambles. "Not something I've done before -" He paused to suckle at your neck, no doubt leaving a mark when he released you, "And I need your help, baby."

Another whimper escaped when his index finger snapped the elastic waistband of your boy-shorts; and you felt his mouth curve into a smirk. "I'll do anything -" You meant it. "Just - please, Yoongi, I need to feel you."

"You will," His mirth left him in a breathy chuckle. It vibrated through your body and formed goosebumps as it went. "But not yet, angel. I want to savor this."

Confused, you pouted - another exhaled laugh against your neck - and then, in a tiny voice, you asked, "What do you mean?"

His hand slid up the back of your neck. With the base of your skull held gently captive between his thumb and middle finger, he guided you to turn your head to the left, then down.

It didn't click right away. Silently, you blinked down at your camera. Is this what he wanted you to see? Why did - "Oh, no," you groaned as your head drooped forward.

"Oh no?" He repeated, and though he tried, he couldn't hide the surprise in his tone. You quickly realized that he mistook your reaction for disinterest. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Your sudden, complete deflation was simply your body buckling under the weight of unspeakable arousal. It anticipated the world-endingly perfect way he was about to fuck you; and it couldn't process the fact that it would all be memorialized. He really would be the end of you.

Your head tilted until it rested against the side of his. "The memory card inside it is full, but there's a new one in my bag."

Although you couldn't see it, you knew the corner of his mouth would twitch excitedly upwards at your words. At his, your mouth dropped open:

"Any clothes you're still wearing when I come back to this bed will be ripped off. Got it?"

It was difficult to tell which part of this exchange made your legs quiver the most: the stern warning itself; the contradictory soft, husky tone in which he said it; or the kiss the top of your head received when you responded - out loud - in the affirmative. He was gone before you could figure it out, making his way to the camera bag in the corner of your bedroom.

He'd barely taken two steps when you frantically pulled your oversized tank-top over your head. It landed somewhere out of sight, and it was swiftly joined by your underwear - grey fabric soaked black. Your laptop was more carefully dismissed, tucked gently under the nightstand to avoid being ruined the way you were sure to be.

When your head hit the pillow, your heart was already racing. Suddenly, you felt shy as you lay naked in your own bed, like you hadn't been in this position so many times before. There was a long-forgotten anticipation turning flips in your stomach. It bent your knees and brought your arms up to rest over your bare chest - you hadn't felt it since the very first time Yoongi saw you like this.

As if he'd been summoned by your thoughts, Yoongi walked towards you with his focus trained on the camera in his hands. The tip of his tongue poked out through pursed lips as he carefully slotted the new memory card into the bottom, but it disappeared when the compartment clicked shut again.

He froze when he looked up at you, and your hammering heart threatened to make a break for it.

"Baby," He was frowning. You raced to figure out which of his directions you failed to follow; but he interrupted the frenzy in your brain with that maddeningly soft, stern voice, "Why are you hiding?"

Mouth open and poised to respond - with what, you weren't sure - you were cut off by the extended finger he raised to silence you. You clamped your jaw shut; his mouth curved ever-so-slightly at your quick compliance.

See? You wanted to say, I'm learning!

He removed the lens cap before his eyes flitted back up to you. "Hands above your head -" You did as he asked, though you didn't know where this was going. "- Close your eyes -" Again, you obeyed. "Don't move."

And you didn't.

You laid there with your eyes closed and listened for any sign of what was coming next. You could hear the muffled tread of his bare feet on the rug; and you expected further instructions - none came. Then you waited for any familiar noise from your camera - there was silence. But you smelled his cologne as he came closer, and the warmth you suddenly felt at your side told you that he’d reached you.

“Lift your head up – but keep your eyes closed.”

The eyebrow you raised in question was covered with some cool, silky fabric before Yoongi could have registered it. You received your answer in his actions. Gentle fingers adjusted the way the blindfold fell over your eyes, and then – even more gently – they tied a knot at the back of your head. Not too tight, but firm enough to keep it from slipping. It was no surprise to you that he’d handled this without disturbing a single hair on your head.

His hands, once behind your head, now cupped your face. “You listen so well, angel,” He murmured before plush lips brushed against your forehead. “Lay back down the way you were.”

Your head returned to the pillow and your elbows bent to allow your hands to meet above it. And you waited like that, trying to sense what his next move would be.

His footsteps padded off, and you figured he was seeking the best place to set up the camera. He paused, though, after only taking a few steps. The camera whirred – the auto-focus, you recognized immediately – and then it clicked.

“So beautiful – you know that, don’t you? How stunning you are?”

Click.

“Perfect -”

Click.

“Mine”

You couldn't help wondering how his photos would turn out. If your cheeks weren’t red under the blanket of his praise, it’d only be because you’d turned into a puddle. Your arousal had strayed far enough to slick the insides of your thighs, and if he didn’t touch you soon, you might liquify entirely and seep through the mattress to the floor.

In the distance, plastic settled on wood. The strap affixed to your camera slithered over whatever surface he’d chosen; you could hear it slip over an edge, then it was silent. The bookshelf, you decided, third row from the top. Maybe second, if he liked the angle better?

Without speaking first, he crawled up onto the foot of the bed. He paused there, likely kneeling in front of you. His hands slipped under your bent knees, and the only warning you got was him purring, “Come here,” mere seconds before you were pulled forward. You imagined that your gasp was still hanging in the air when you slipped out from under it.

As soon as he was satisfied with your proximity, his hands found the insides of your knees and encouraged your legs to spread. “Now, baby -” He started, the heat of his breath indicating just how close his mouth was to your weeping cunt. “You’ll make sure the camera can hear you, won’t you?”

The word was caught in your throat, suddenly bashful, but it eventually slipped out, “Yes.”

You knew you’d failed as soon as you heard it, and you didn’t need to wait long to face the consequences. You jolted when his flattened fingers collided with your cunt - the sensation was a surprise, but the sound was what shocked you. Fuck! You could hear how wet he had you already.

Sodden, pooling, dripping.

“Don’t be selfish, angel,” He tutted after withdrawing his touch from you, “Those sounds might come out of your mouth, but they don't belong to you, do they?”

“No -” Your desperation was palpable when you responded with your whole chest. “They don’t. I – I won’t be selfish, I promise -”

You cried out when he slapped your cunt a second time, an obscene chord formed by surprise, torment, and unbearable need.

“Whose are they?”

“Yours!” You choked, “They’re yours. I’m yours.”

His arms hooked under your thighs and your pulse skyrocketed. “See? You are learning.”

And then he lurched forward, flat tongue dragging upwards over your core with a pressure so perfect, your entire body tensed. He squeezed your legs harder when your back arched, and it prevented you from inadvertently slipping away from him.

That devilish tongue swirled over your clit, and all you could manage was a whisper of a moan. He corrected you wordlessly, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs. The groan he pulled from you ricocheted off each one of your ribs on the way out. Satisfied, he hummed in approval against your cunt before he proceeded to flick dizzying circles over your increasingly sensitive bud; alternating paces in the way he knew would drive you mad.

Both of your arms reached out, and your hands carded through his hair. You pulled him ever closer, which prompted him to shake his head furiously with the flat of his tongue pressed against your heat.

“Oh, fuck!” you wailed. As much as you wanted to watch him, you knew that – even without the blindfold - the way his mouth moved so expertly against you would have made it too difficult to keep your eyes open. They were already covered, but you squeezed them tight enough to see stars as he suckled your clit. “Shit, baby – ah – feels so good.”

The thread holding you together frayed further and further with every brush of his tongue against your most sensitive spot. The sound of his breathing, ragged and muffled with your thighs pressed harshly against the sides of his head, would have done unspeakable things to you - if your mindless gasping didn't threaten to drown him out completely.

He shifted without removing his mouth from you, and he unhooked his right arm from under your leg. The heel of his hand glided up over your pelvis, your navel, and your breasts before stopping at the underside of your jaw. Two fingers tapped at your chin; you took the hint and took them into your mouth.

His tongue never let up on your clit as you slicked his fingers, suckling on them the way he did you. Once he was satisfied with the work you’d done, he pulled his hand back down to your cunt.

Tongue still relentless at your clit, his middle finger swung the focus to your entrance, which was drenched by his saliva and your own slick. Meticulous and slow, he slid his finger inside of you. He moaned at the way you constricted around him; you melted.

He never struggled to find that secret spot hidden behind your pubic bone. He'd proven time and time again that he was more in tune with your body than you were. Every curve, dip, and line had been committed to muscle memory.

He could anticipate your reaction to every touch, even when those reactions varied based upon your mood or your energy level - and it was automatic. Unthinking but knowing. He teased this spot without mercy, and as he likely expected, you began to shake under his touch.

The growing feeling in the pit of your stomach was one you knew he strived for. His favorite trick, once he knew the secret. And whenever you tried to resist – still uncomfortable with the way your body reacted to him – he gave you no choice.

No poet could adequately describe how completely your orgasm consumed you. With the way you jolted against his mouth, he could’ve electrocuted you. You wriggled and writhed in his arms as you came, but he didn’t stop, even as your walls clenched around his fingers and your thighs pressed even more tightly against the sides of his head.

Your familiar moans devolved into some desperate sounds you’d never made before, curse words spilling out over your lips as you just kept cumming – but he still held tight to you as you bucked wildly in his arms.

There was unbelievable pressure until there wasn’t.

“Fuck, I love it when you do that,” He growled with his face nestled into your quivering, dripping inner thigh. His teeth nicked the skin but were swiftly replaced with a kiss from his ravenous, open mouth. “That’s my good girl.”

He let you collapse back onto the bed, but he denied you any time to recover.

“I think you can do it again, baby. What do you think?” He teased, alternating words and quick kisses along the interior of your thigh. “Should we see how much more you can take?”

You babbled something in response, but neither of you could’ve interpreted what you meant. Your limp neck rolled to the side while you tried to catch your breath; there wasn’t time. You felt him coat his fingers in the remnants of your orgasm moments before he slid them inside of you and curled them upward.

The combination of relentless pressure and a feverish pace dotted stars across the insides of your eyelids. Breathless, dangling at the edge of a precipice, you stammered, “Yoo-Yoongi -”

Despite the obscene squelch of his ministrations, his voice rang through, clear as a bell. “What, angel? Do you want to come again?” Stupidly, you nodded, but he didn’t scold you. Given your fucked-out state, he seemed to forgive your mistake. “Then come.”

The blindfold covering your eyes was black, but your vision went white. As you spasmed and gushed uncontrollably around his fingers, there was a moment where you could’ve sworn your soul ejected itself from your body. If it was floating above you now, it would’ve seen how thoroughly you’d drenched your boyfriend; and how perfect he still looked with your juices dripping off his chin.

His weight was shifting at your feet when you returned to your body. It took everything you had, but you lifted one, limp arm out in his general direction. No words, just an outstretched hand begging to find him. When it did, he slotted his fingers perpendicularly under yours, rubbed the pad of his thumb over your knuckles, and kissed the top of your hand.

“What color?” he murmured against your skin.

You sighed softly, exhausted but not yet entirely spent, “Green.” You paused and chewed on your bottom lip. After a moment of quiet, you asked, “Yoongi?”

“Yes, baby?”

It was pitiful how your request barely rolled off of your tongue, but the answer would surely be no if you didn’t ask. “Can I see you?”

He was silent for a moment – so, the answer would be no even though you did ask – but then you heard his soft chuckle. Even after he pulled the blindfold off, your eyes were useless. Somewhere in the bright white haze was Yoongi, though you couldn’t confirm that the shadow in front of you was truly him. Maybe you truly had died.

Blinking furiously, you refused to stop until your eyes remembered how to focus. Slowly, slowly, slowly, the dark figure before you took a familiar shape. Shirtless, with damp, black waves clinging to his cheekbones – there he was. Concern was etched into his features, but his narrowed eyes relaxed when you shot him a smile.

“Color?” You inquired with a squeeze of your hand.

When he dropped your hand, your heart fell with it. But he sat up on his knees, placed that hand on your cheek, and captured your lips in a kiss. It was perfect, but it was torturously brief.

“Green,” He replied. He backed away from you until he was standing at the foot of the bed. One hand dropped to his belt buckle while the index finger on his other hand beckoned you.

You crawled towards him until his palm silently instructed you to stop.

“Elbows on the mattress, ass up,” He ordered as he made short work of his belt. It slid easily through the loops of his ripped jeans and clattered as it hit the floor.

You leaned forward as he instructed, knees and elbows digging into the comforter you’d absolutely need to wash later – especially considering the way your mouth watered when his jeans and boxers were discarded and kicked aside. Were you drooling?

Your body buzzed with anticipation as he crossed to the side of the bed. You wished he took his time sidling over to you, so your eyes could continue to devour his lean, snow-white frame; but if the stiff cock encircled by his hand was any indication, Yoongi wasn’t interested in wasting time. Instead, he pushed himself up onto the bed, out of sight, and the next thing you felt was his hand collecting your hair, pulling, and forcing your face up to the camera.

His free hand squeezed your ass cheek when he said, “Eye contact, baby. Show the camera how I make you feel. Can you do that?”

With his tip teasing at your entrance, you weren’t confident that you could – but you’d sure as hell try. “I can,” Your determination was clear, even if the voice conveying it wavered. “I will.”

“Good girl,” He hummed. He released your hair and placed a kiss on the same shoulder blade he had earlier - when he last had you in this position. “Now, take a deep breath for me.”

It wasn’t graceful, the way you sucked in air as he penetrated you; it was an unholy, strangled sound, and it crashed through the quiet like a wrecking ball. Every instinct begged your head to droop forward, and your back to curve up upwards, but you fought them off. Praise for your efforts tumbled out over your spine between Yoongi’s shuttered moans. His noises had you clenching around his cock, and the tightened grip of your cunt transformed them into something guttural.

He paused when he bottomed out. Like you, he seemed to be at a loss for words. The hand gripping your hip was holding on for dear life; and the one curved over your shoulder kept you in place, allowing him to bury himself as deeply as possible.

He didn’t speak until he slowly started withdrawing himself from you, “I love the way you take me, how that tight pussy fights me whenever I leave.”

As his cock dragged over your g-spot, your entire body shivered. He felt it and chuckled; you hiccupped, “Still so s-sensitive.”

“Green?”

“More -” You begged, “Please, baby.”

You asked for it, but you weren’t ready for it. His hips snapped forward and drove him back into you before you could process what was happening. And when he kept up that ravenous pace, rutting over and over and over your detonator, it took everything you had not to explode.

All your willpower was spent trying to withstand his thrusts, though – nothing could keep you from collapsing forward onto the bed as your white-knuckled fingers gripped the comforter below.

Before your body could fully settle over the mattress, his hand on your shoulder evolved into an arm hooking over you. He pulled you upright as his arm crossed over your heaving chest; he didn’t stop until he had you pinned to his.

Fucking upwards into you with shallow, staccato strokes, he scolded you. “What did I tell you?” His hand dropped from your hip and dipped between your quivering thighs. His rapid thrusts didn’t falter as his middle finger began to assault your clit. “Hmm? What did I just say?”

“Eye conta -”

The end of that word mutated into a scream. He snapped his hips forward so suddenly, you never anticipated being shoved off the edge of the world. Your orgasm ripped through you, shutting off your brain and forcing your entire body to convulse around him.

You went limp when you fell from your high; Yoongi’s hold on you tightened to keep you from collapsing. Unrelenting, he just – kept – rutting. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

You wailed when that fourth wave crashed down over you. Caught in its riptide, you spoke in tongues; writhing and shrieking and imploding. Could a person die from coming this hard?

Yoongi’s panting pulled you out of the abyss he’d thrown you in. “Shit,” He hissed, “I’m so close - fuck, you feel so good -” You felt it all over when he growled into your ear, “Tell me where you want it, baby.”

You answered, but it was impossible for your hazy brain to know for sure if you’d replied verbally or telepathically. Either way, he understood – he always understood – and his break-neck speed was replaced by deep, deliberate thrusts. He groaned out your name as his cock twitched inside you, painting your walls white.

The kiss Yoongi left in the crook of your neck didn’t wash away with the water cascading down over the two of you. You could still feel the uniqueness of its warmth, even in a cloud of steam - under the hot, heavy droplets hitting your skin.

Your eyes were closed to avoid the conditioner he was massaging into your scalp, but your exhaustion was likely to keep them that way. The only reason you hadn’t slipped down the drain yourself was your unspoken refusal to be separated from him. Though, with that invisible string tying the two of you together, you’d never be able to stray very far, even if you wanted to.

“Can you tilt your head back, love?”

This one was a request, not a command, and he made no effort to move it for you. The weight of your sleepiness caused your neck to roll more clumsily than you intended; it gave up, and your head bumped against his clavicle when it dropped backwards.

“Sorry,” you murmured, but he was already chuckling. “My motor skills seem to have clocked out early.”

His laugh ricocheted off the tile. “You won’t need them,” He mused as his hands gently worked the remaining conditioner from your hair. “We can use mine.” Then he kissed the crown of your head, not once but twice. You could feel his smile spread against your scalp when you giggled. “All done, baby.”

He’d taken his time with you; and he’d taken great care to clean – then kiss – every sore muscle he encountered. And when he was done, he used a large, plush towel to wick the lingering droplets from your skin. His hands on your waist steadied you as you stepped into a pair of sweatpants, and he smoothed the damp waves that you disrupted in unceremoniously tugging an oversized sweatshirt over your head.

Once the two of you were fully dressed, he cupped your face in his hands, kissed you deep, and asked, “Do you need a lift back to bed?” His eyes sparkled at his joke – of course, he meant lift literally – and his eyebrow arched when you meekly shook your head. “I’m not sold. Is that your final answer?”

You, once again, shook your head. He exhaled amusement through his nose at your indecision. Then, he placed his hands on your waist. Perfectly coordinated – as always – he lifted as you hopped, pulling you into his chest while your limbs wrapped around him. He carried you easily back into the bedroom and set you down gently on the bare mattress.

All of your bedding was spinning in the washing machine on the first floor of your home, but he had a fluffy, full-sized throw waiting there for you. You held up one side of it, silently inviting him to join you. When he settled at your side, your head ducked down and came to rest under his chin. As soon as his arm curled over your back, your heavy lids finally closed.

You were both quiet, one foot in a dream, when the growl of his stomach startled you both awake. Erupting into laughter, you each craned your neck to see the other beaming back.

He wiped the mirth pooling in the corner of his eye and sighed as his laughter petered out, “Delivery from that fried chicken place?”

“Oooh, yes, please.”

A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! The response to the first post was so incredibly overwhelming, I simply had to write a follow-up. I might continue to add one-offs to this darksided cinematic universe (lol) simply because I love their relationship dynamic. And the sexual journey they seem to be on, hahahah. Please leave feedback so I know what you liked and what you didn't! Also, lmk if there’s something you’d want to see in any possible future installments 👀

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joesanrio · 1 year

Text

All over Instagram | J.U

Summary: It’s been about 2 days since you last saw Jey, and now a small situation that was on Twitter has seemed to spread.

Pairings: Joshua Fatu {Jey Uso} x fem!reader || established relationship

Warnings: flashback, “cheating” scandal, rumors, long distance, emotional conversation, stubborn!Jey, uses real and nicknames, face grabbing, p-in-v (unprotected), multi!orgasms, shower!sex, 69, they just being filthy… NOT EDITED

Word count: 2856 (long)

Ratings: Angst, Fluff, Smut | 18+

A/N: y’all in the comments of All over Twitter | J.U had me cracking up!! So here’s part two since y’all loved the last one 🩵🩵

Tag list: @angelreyesgirl100 @britishhybrid @harlem11680 @papireigns-05 @jeyusos-girl @heart4reigns @xiament3 @romanreignseater @reci24 @bakugoumarianawrites @jeysbae @smile1318 @anonandwannakeepitthatway @alyyaanna @tjai1121 @syia2907 @mya2real @southerngirl41 @nbanenefrmdao @him-uni @siriuslyblackonback @christinabae @justanamjoonstan @louisianalady @iguessilikewrestlingnow @avxngxrrogxrs @romanreignkisser @jeyusosgirl @glennsrealbae @lucymarie2002

———————————————————

[Flashback]

“Omg, Thank you so much for coming!” clapping happily as Jimmy pulls up to the venue you asked him to view with you, it was about 8pm and you wanted to see how it would look inside with the skylight roof. “You know I got you sis, plus I know uce like the back of my hand.” Jimmy hugs you once he exits his car, heading inside with the key the owner gave you.

The inside was beautiful especially with the sky being practically night but still a bit light out. The moon shining bright through the skylight, letting the marble floor glisten and the walls darken around.

You guys were there about 30 minutes taking small notes and measurements for the plan you were setting up, “I like the red because it’ll look really pretty under the lighting that I’m getting, but I’m not sure about the black.” You reply, as Jimmy mentioned the color scheme. Looking around the room again to get the feel for it, “Too dark.” He nods before thinking of some other colors to make the room pop.

“What about silver, red, white? I mean it’s simple it’ll make the room sparkle…” Perking up happily as Jimmy side glances at your mention of sparkles. “Girl. Sparkles, really?” His facial expression making you burst into laughter. “It’s my anniversary too!” giggling before writing down the idea in your notebook as a reminder to send to the interior designer after getting your own perspective of the room.

---

It’s now 9:40pm, both of you have viewed the entire venue and included things that you needed to buy or fix up before the surprise. Jimmy was a great help, especially with the measurements or telling you about small cultural details to add to the venue to make it more special. You couldn’t have chosen a better person to help with the surprise anniversary party you wanted to throw for Jey.

“Alright now, get home safe.” Jimmy hugs you once you declare the work finished, “You too! And thank you so much for the help again.” Grinning at tonight’s success as you lock the door and put the key in your purse. “Say Hi to Trin for me too!” You call out before getting into your car and putting your address into the gps. He gives me a thumbs up, pulling out of the parking lot quickly to get home to his girl.

[Present]

You haven’t seen Jey in 2 days, and every time you tried to call him, the call would decline, and he’ll text back “What were y’all doin?”. You called Jimmy (and Trin) to tell them what happened with Jey, at first you were relieved when Jimmy mentioned how he could call him and fix it.

That was until when he did call, Jey picked up quickly before saying “Fuck you,” and hanging up just before Jimmy could even get a word in. Should’ve known though, because his dramatics used to be one of your favorite things about him, it would make you laugh or just lighten the room, but as of now it’s doing the exact opposite.

So, you decided to wait until Summerslam to try to message him again, an even worse decision as Jimmy goes out and betrays him that same night.

Watching your phone go from hundreds of mentions on social media to thousands in a matter of seconds, the fans were never merciful with those who they don’t like, and they sure don’t like you right now.

“Just pick up and be an adult.” You practically yell at your phone as you call Jey right after the PPV is over, the rings now being impeded into your brain as you listen to them play repeatedly.

Ik you see my calls so just answer them 🙄

I didn’t want to call you earlier and I don’t want to call you now 🤨

Joshua. Literally answer, we need to talk abt this

We can talk in person.

Our flight is at 11pm

Okay be safe 💗

Seen

He got home last night but didn’t say a word as he unpacked and got into bed. If anything, Jey was so silent that you didn’t even realize he was home until you felt the bed shift.

---

The next morning, you were up preparing breakfast for the kids before they headed off to school. Leaving you and Jey in the house alone. The house that was once filled with soft laughter, or just interesting conversations, is now completely silent and cold.

You understand him, you know how he acts and why he does it. You were just hoping he wouldn’t be that way with you, “Josh… can we talk now?” voice barely above a whisper when you walk back into your shared bedroom. His eyes shooting up to make eye contact with yours as he sits against the headboard on his phone, “Yup.” Jey’s voice monotone as he looks back down at his phone.

Letting out a soft sigh at his attitude, unconsciously speeding towards the distant man, missing his warmth and comfort. “Do you really think I cheated?” getting straight to the point, you understood what the public thought, but you wanted to know if Jey truly believed it. Jey’s gaze caressing over your body before coming back up to your eyes, hurt visible inside of them, a loud huff leaving his nose as he drops his phone into his lap.

“I want to say no, but something in the back of my mind is saying otherwise.” He expresses lowly, his gaze not easing up as your own softens. “You believe that I would cheat on you. With you brother?” eye contact now separating as he looks down at his hands, “I would never, I could never do that to you or myself.” Your voice delicate as all your pent-up emotions seem to leak through your words.

Your words were never second guessed to Jey, even when he has the underlying thoughts of what people say. “I know…” is all he could muster up to tell you, this wasn’t a conversation that he ever though he would have to have with you.

“I don’t think you do. You left me.” His heart breaking at those words, he doesn’t like this feeling. Especially since it’s coming from the only other person that he knew would protect him with all their might. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll prove it to you, I’ll do anything. I’m sorry.” His voice cracking as he pleads to you desperately, he couldn’t imagine not being with you, not knowing that you’ll be there when he gets home.

“Then prove it.” Your voice quiet compared to Jey’s harsh breaths. “I’ll do anything, whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.” His eyes falling onto yours, the desperate pleads starting to mumble together as you watch the different emotions flash in his intense gaze.

---

“I told you; I’ll do anything.”

A sort of muffled cry leaves your mouth as Jey grabs your cheeks with his large hand. The touch is gentle, yet rough as he squeezes and moves your face to look into his eyes. A teasing smirk forms onto his lips when your eyes meet his again, “What’d I tell you, baby?” his eyes filled with lust.

Another moan leaves your plump lips as your cunt tightens and hips lifts off the bed, pushing itself further into Jey’s thrust and the vibrator he’s forcing you to use; still in your hand pressing against your clit. Trying to create space away from the vibrator and your sensitive and puffy clit.

Jey’s free hand comes to hold your wrist in place, an annoyed groan passes through your throat, your body tries to squirm away from the vibrator that is now impossible to move. “Stop running away baby. I’m finally back.” Your body tries helplessly to get away from the vibrations spreading painful pleasure through your body and the powerful thrusts from his cock.

“You wanted me to prove it, yeah?” An annoyed grunt travels through the air when your walls flutter and clench around Jey’s thick dick, your body squirming starts adding on to the tightness surrounding his cock, making his thrusts less precise.

“Yes baby!” Your hands reach for something to grab before stuttering and trying to push his hips away from yours in a panic, Jey grabs your throat, squeezing gently as the now found pleasure sputters through your body. Holding you in place impatiently, his head leaning down to your ear. “Look at you, you couldn’t cheat on me baby. You’re a mess for this dick.” He teases before placing a small peck on the outer shell of your ear.

Jey chuckling at your pathetic state, adding more pressure to your wrist to dig the vibrator further into your clit. Your walls flutter around him in response, a moan leaves his mouth as his eyes snap close to savor the feeling.

The warmth and tightness suck his cock into your pussy greedily, practically begging him to continue pumping into you. His eyes open slowly as your moaning and desperate noises fill the room.

“Take it. Take all of me.” His deep groans fill the room tauntingly. Eyes rolled back deliciously before closing tightly, jaw hanging open because can’t close no matter how hard you try to force it shut. Jey smirks teasingly at your state and gives you a particularly deep thrust that causes your pelvis to jolt upwards shakily.

A thick whine travels up your throat and passes the pressure he applies to your throat. It causes Jey to chuckle condescendingly, and he places a quick kiss to your cheek. The tenderness of the act distracts you for a moment, giving him the opportunity to release your throat and pull the vibrator from your overstimulated clit.

A surprised squeal leaves your mouth at the cool air brushing over your sensitive cunt. Jey takes the time to slow down his thrusts, observing the fucked-out look that covers your face. You look gorgeous with eyes that can’t see clearly and skin that tries stupidly to cool your body down with sweat. A soft groan leaves his lips, and he speeds up his thrusts again. “I love you!” You practically huff out as his thrust seems to knock the wind out of you.

“I love you too.” He shakes his head in amusement before grabbing your wrists and pinning them to the pillow above your head as he gives your cunt the last of his pleasurable thrusts before stilling and coating your walls in his cum. You both let out tired sighs as the pleasure courses through your bodies until it dies down into a faint hum. Jey gives your wrists a tight squeeze before letting them go and slipping out of you.

His body warmth now gone makes you whimper, and he kisses your forehead lovingly as an apology. He sits back up and caresses your face with a small smile. It causes your heart to flutter, and you’re bought out of your fucked-out phase.

When your eyes clear and meet Jey’s, he breathes out a slow breath, “That’s my girl, now I need you to sit down on my face. ‘Kay?” He speaks more of a demand than suggestion. Eyebrows furrowing at this man’s high sex drive, barely being able to recuperate from your past 2 orgasms.

He taps your thigh quickly to get you out of your trance, forcing your body up and switching positions. His large hands delicate on your soft waist and pulling you gently down onto his face. Adjusting you, so you sit perfectly onto his lips, his tongue quickly going to lick up your swollen folds.

“S’good. Suck me baby, keep that mouth busy.” He mumbles into your puffy cunt, your hands going to garb his erected cock, immediately wondering how many times you’re going to have to cum before he goes limp.

“Oh… gentle- please!” You whine out as Jey sucks on your clit roughly. Quickly letting go of the sensitive bud and deciding to tongue fuck you in between your folds and lick you clean. You let out a whiney moan before you spit onto his cock, stroking him up and down a few times before taking your tongue to swirl around his tip.

"Fuck, that’s it." He voices out as you begin to ride against his motions while you prepare on your end to take all his cock into your mouth. You start off slow, teasing Jey by licking a stripe up his shaft before lowering your mouth halfway down.

You pull back up, your hands stroking near the base at the same time you bob up and down. Your moans are muffled against his cock, but Jey is eating the fuck out of your pussy, and you genuinely want to sob.

"Josh, wait fuck-" You yell but he continues. "You're-you're gonna make me cum so fucking fast."

"Do it for me." He teases in between. He begins to slowly work his hips into you, making his cock fuck your mouth ever so gently.

As you continue sucking him, you feel your high coming to a close, especially when Jey is toying with your folds with his tongue and taking advantage of the way you work your hips against his mouth.

"Joshua! Ah, so close! I'm-I'm—" You try to continue stroking his wet dick to keep yourself occupied but fall limp into his pelvic as your hips continue to ride out your 3rd orgasm on his skillful mouth.

"Shower time?" Jey lifts your hip from his face with a chuckle while you gather your breathing, forgetting completely about his orgasm.

"Mhm." You mumble as you push yourself up and roll to the side of him, knowing exactly what he expects when he asks the question.

Even though you both needed to shower, your bodies coated in cum, sweat, and spit, you guys just laid there breathless. His arms pulling you into his embrace, you missed this. You missed him. "Join me Baby." Your eyes diverting into his gaze softly at his question, before nodding silently. Too tired to even say a word anymore, hoping that his past expectations don’t apply here.

Finally deciding to head to the shower after a small pep talk, remembering you guys must clean up before the kids get home. “I bought you something!” Jey perks up from the closet as he walks towards you with one of his new shirts, not even phased about the fact that he’s naked.

Smiling at him, you head into the steaming shower, the hot water immediately cleansing off your sticky body. “Don’t leave me baby!” He jokes when the fogged door slams closed.

Sooner or later, you see his silhouette passing the glass, the door slightly swinging open again as he lets himself in. You subtly bite onto your bottom lip as you look at him up and down, his member quickly hardening when he sees your wet body gleaming under the light.

The shower started off sweet, and comforting. Jey gently working his hands into your scalp to massage the shampoo and conditioner in your hair. He helps wash it off, continuing to work his hands in the same motions, causing your eyes to shut briefly at his tenderness.

You returned the favor, turning and him unintentionally bending his knees for you to get a good grip on his hair, working the shampoo through his curls. It's quiet, and the only sounds in the bathroom are the running water and the water bouncing off the tiles.

"You're so beautiful." He says, helping lather up the body wash on your back before you help with his and wash off. He gives you a warm, small smile before dipping his head to press a kiss on your lips. But at this point, you don't want to pull away at all. Instead, you want him to continue, your hands rest on his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

You gently bite on his bottom lip, tugging back slightly as you keep your gaze on him. "Fuck. We’re supposed to be getting clean." Jey whispers when you pull away, a small groan being released from his mouth as he pulls you by the waist, his hardened member brushing against your clit.

“You’re right. Now let me go.” Your self-control comes hurdling back as you realize the whole point of the shower, “Damn… you ain’t even want to pretend like you wanted more.” He complains behind you as you rinse off again, not for any reason but it just felt right.

Winking at the desperate man behind you once you shut the water off, leaving the shower to get dried off. His hand slapping your ass quickly when you leave him as he just stands in the shower contemplating the situation.

"I did all that proving, and you can’t even give m-me a little suck?" His voice vibrating off the shower walls as he complains, you can see his hands flying around with his stutter. Giggling, you continue to do your own thing, not paying the giant baby any mind.

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melodygatesauthor · 1 year

Text

Chapter 11: Torn to Pieces

prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader

Edited by: @welcometostayingawake

Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist

Chapter Summary:

Jake feels guilty, but wants to see you again too badly to care. You continue to see "Steven" when he texts you and tells you to meet up with him. Marc is still trying to get Steven to come back.

Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):

college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu (as a deity), talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded, minor mentions of alcohol addiction and depression.

Word Count: 3.2k

SPECIAL WARNING - DUBIOUS CONSENT. READER DISCRETION ADVISED.

----

Marc woke up on Saturday morning feeling like he’d hardly slept at all. He knew it was possible that Jake or Steven had fronted while he was out, but everything was still right where he’d left it the day before. Steven’s phone was on the end table, Marc’s clothes were still in a pile on the floor, and when he checked the closet, like he did everyday checking for any sign of Steven, there wasn’t a single shirt out of place. As far as he could tell, he’d just had a bad night’s sleep. He went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Nothing but his own reflection was looking back. Marc realized then that he missed Steven.

Marc may have taken a back seat after they moved back to the states, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t still been a fly on the wall, keeping an eye on Steven. The years of guilt he’d racked up meant he wanted to personally ensure that Steven could have that happy life he and Jake had promised all along. Now that Steven was gone, Marc was reminded that all he seemed to be able to do was ruin Steven’s life. He only hoped that Steven would come back and understand why he had to do this.

It had been a while since Steven hit the gym, so since he began fronting a couple weeks ago, Marc started going again. It helped him burn off some steam, especially with the guilt weighing so heavily on his shoulders. On his way back from his session today, he noticed you walking down the street. You seemed to be heading toward the coffee shop where you and Steven had first met. For a split second, Marc had thought of stopping the car to explain everything to you.

It would’ve been foolish, which is why he didn’t actually do it, but the guilty part of him wanted to tell you everything. He wanted to tell you why it was dangerous, beyond the loss of his career and your degree, for you and Steven to be together. He wanted to tell you why Steven shouldn’t have had you at their apartment. Mostly, he wanted to come clean about the mental issues, and the truth about who Steven was, and why Steven was. Marc felt like you deserved all that, and more, but it was too late now to tell you. You moving on from the breakup, he hoped, and telling you about their traumas would only drag you back in thanks to your empathetic nature. It was for the best if you hated Steven; at least then there would be little risk of you ever coming back.

Thanks to Jake though, you weren’t able to easily move on…not really anyway. You felt better though, thinking that Steven still wanted to be with you, and that he was willing to keep seeing you. You just wondered when. You’d hoped to hear from him that morning, to wake up with a text telling you that he wanted to see you that night, but you didn’t. In fact, you wouldn’t hear from him again until Sunday night. Your phone buzzed, lighting up with a text from him. Your heart skipped a beat.

Steven: Come outside at 11pm.

The text was short and sweet. You didn’t need to ask what he would be driving, you had a feeling you’d see him in that black car again, and you did. Layla was sleeping when you snuck out, wearing the skirt you’d worn on the day he broke up with you, a pair of lacy panties he’d mentioned liking once, and a form-fitting shirt.

Jake was waiting, sitting in the car on the other side of the street with the engine running. When he saw you coming, his breath caught in his lungs. You were so beautiful, it was no wonder Steven nearly ruined everything he and Marc had worked to give him just to be with you. You were perfect. Jake wasn’t someone who fell victim to anxiousness very often, but you had a way of making his palms sweat, and his breath feel shallow.

You slipped into the car and he pulled away from the curb. He seemed so different to you, and you wondered if this was what Steven was really like, calm and collected, smooth and mysterious, and the teaching thing was just a front for…whatever this was. It felt off, but you weren’t going to draw attention to it, you were still riding the high of having him back after the trauma of losing him. The fear that he might leave you again kept you quiet, despite your suspicions. You brought your hand to rest over his on the center console. You thought he would squeeze your fingers and hold your hand but he didn’t.

Jake felt your hand touch his and he thought he might swerve into oncoming traffic by mistake. He felt like his lungs might collapse and his heart might stop. Intimacy wasn’t something he was accustomed to. He wanted to take your hand in return, he wanted to, but somehow doing even that small of a gesture would increase the guilt for him, so he didn’t move. The disappointment was clear on your face, he could see it out of the corner of his eye.

When he parked, at the same place he’d been with you before when he picked you up, he got out of the car, leaving his jacket and hat in the front seat when he made his way to the back. He was standing by the door and clearly waiting for you to get in first. You felt nervous for some reason, but you pushed through and moved out of the passenger’s seat to the back. Maybe the cause of your nerves was that he wasn’t saying a word to you. Even as he joined you in the backseat, and pulled you onto his lap, chest pressed against your back, he didn’t say a single thing. The deafening silence continued, even when he put a hand on your spine and pushed you forward in between the front seats over the center console.

“I…I missed you.” You murmured from the front.

“Mm,” he hummed in agreement, pulling your skirt up to reveal your gorgeous rear.

“You don’t talk much these days, miss the sound of your–oh my…”

Jake had taken off one of his gloves and was rubbing his palm over your right asscheek. You’d worn such a pretty little thong. He reveled in the way the delicate fabric looked, barely covering the bits he craved. He brought his finger down and touched between the space where your pussy lips peeked out from behind the panties. You whined in front of him, squirming at the sensation. He smirked, throwing any reservations he still had about what the two of you were doing out the window. The sound of your arousal made him weak, forgetting any guilt he may still have. He needed you.

You heard his belt buckle clanking while he worked on his pants. You leaned back a little letting your cunt brush against his knuckles while he was getting his button undone. You turned your head to look at him. He had his head down, curls in front of his eyes so you couldn’t see him, but you watched him stop trying to get his pants down and instead he focused on you. You rolled back again, and once more his balled fist offered you some friction against your needy clit.

Jake shuddered, you were so wet for him already and he’d hardly touched you at all. It was delicious, the way you wanted him so badly. He only wished it was really him that you wanted. Would it be so bad if he came clean right then? Told you that he wasn’t the man you thought he was? Would you run? He decided quickly that couldn’t bring himself to tell you…not yet.

The panties became a problem when he finally pulled his pants to his thighs and was ready to take you. He tried to tug them aside, but they were so snug against you that he couldn’t fit his cock past them. With both hands, he pulled on the fabric, tearing it off you in two pieces and tossing it in the front seat by your hand.

“Did you just…those were expensive–oh my fuck–”

You felt the hard press of his fat tip against your tight entrance. He dragged his cock between your folds. It sounded so wet and felt so warm, you wanted him so bad. You rocked your hips backward, feeling his head push through your hole followed by a sweet and deep groan leaving Steven’s lips. He grabbed your hips on either side and pulled you over him completely, forcing you both to let out choked moans into the car.

You gripped the edges of the seats on either side of you for stability while he thrusted into you roughly. You thought your hips might bruise from the force that he was grinding you into the center console. The sensation of his hands exploring the globes of your ass was nice, like he was relishing the way your body felt under his palms. You felt the little slaps and grabs he did with his fingers while continuing you. He’d never been so fixated on that part of your body before.

When Jake looked down he lifted up his shirt so he could see his cock disappear into you with every glide forward into your tight hole. The way your cunt grabbed onto him and swallowed him whole made his body tremble. He’d been with a few women in his time, but none that made him feel the way you did. When he grabbed the headrests on either side of himself, he leaned back a little and watched in amazement as you worked yourself over him.

“Mm, así bebita,” Jake said, but quickly realized his mistake while caught up in the moment.

Of course, you caught onto it, turning your pretty face around to look at him, eyes bright and eager.

“What did you say?”

He put a hand over your back and shoved you into the center console again, fucking you harder so you couldn’t think too much about his minor slip. It seemed to work, because you just started moaning and whining so loud he could hardly hear himself think clearly. He grabbed your hip and drove himself in as deep as he could, feeling your walls clench in response. He wanted more, he needed to make you whimper and cry harder.

Jake spit on your tight ring of muscle and heard you gasp softly from the front. He used his thumb to press against the rim, circling around it to help you relax. When you finally let him in, he hooked his thumb in there and started pistoning your rear in tandem with the way his hips worked into your cunt. There you were, filling his car with the sharp choking whines that he craved so much.

Cool, calm, and collected Jake drooled on his pristine white shirt at the feeling of your tight little pussy opening up for him with every slide forward. He could feel your soft and slick, velvety walls stretching out around him with every pass. The tip of his cock was grazing against your cervix, he was so close, and judging by the way he felt you tighten around his length and his thumb…you were too.

“Oh, Steven. I’m…oh shit!”

Your walls clamped down over him, as did your tight asshole. Despite saying the wrong name, the way you felt drew out Jake’s orgasm quickly. He looked down, choking on his groans while watching your pussy milking every bit of cum from his twitching cock. He pursed his lips, letting out a sharp exhale as he continued filling you up as full as he could.

Your hopes for an intimate conclusion to the evening was denied when Steven promptly pulled out of you the second he was finished spilling into you. He waited outside for you to get yourself together and back in the front seat. You couldn’t put your panties back on, they were completely ruined, so you decided you’d leave them on the floor for now. He could deal with the mess he’d made. When you got out of the car, after using the napkins in Jake’s glove box to clean yourself up, you noticed him crushing something under his shiny shoes. He looked at you, face riddled with something that looked like guilt.

“Are…are you smoking? Steven…” You took a step toward him.

“Get in the car.” He said, pulling together a British accent, hoping you’d believe it.

Whether you were buying the facade or not, you furrowed your brow, turned on your heel, and got in the car. He could tell you were irritable by the way you kept your head turned out the window the entire way back to your dorm. You didn’t even kiss him goodbye that night, you just got out, slammed the door, and went into the building. Jake knew that he was going to have to work with Marc sooner than later to get Steven back. He couldn’t keep this up for long, and he couldn’t let you walk out of their lives.

“He was smoking,” you whispered to yourself, while walking down the hall to your dorm, as if to remind yourself of what you saw.

There was no doubt in your mind. You could smell it when he joined you in the car earlier, the distinct scent of a burnt out cigarette. It was the kind of smell that permeated everything around it. You weren’t going to lose your mind over it, sometimes people smoked, and the fact that he was smoking wasn’t necessarily the problem. You were more concerned with the fact that you’d never smelled it before that night. This was a new habit, that much was clear, and you were wondering what made him start it up in the first place.

----

Marc awoke with a start on Wednesday. He had a weird dream…a dream that involved you. He thought about it while showering and brushing his teeth. It kept flashing through his mind. You bent over the center console of a nice car he’d never seen before while he thrust into you. There was another dream he recalled where you were on his lap in the back seat of the same car, back pressed against his chest while you panted and moaned as you were riding his cock.

He felt himself getting aroused just thinking about it more. The way you sounded while he fucked upward into you, sharp gasps escaping your lips while you got used to his size all over again. He remembered you wearing a nice pair of red panties, plain as day, and then you thanked him for them, as if he’d gifted them to you. He shook the thoughts from his head.

“Great…now I’m thinking about her,” Marc grumbled while exiting the bathroom.

“She’s hard not to think about hermano,” Jake said from the headspace.

Jake knew what was happening. He wasn’t dreaming about you, he was remembering you. Jake had seen you just last night, bringing you a replacement for the panties he’d ruined. He wasn’t even going to fuck you that time, but you insisted, telling him to ‘take me, please, I’m so fucking wet’. And take you he did. He fucked you in the backseat once more, playing with your swollen clit while he buried his cock into you over and over until you were collapsing back onto him in his lap.

“Yeah, well…” Marc picked up Steven’s phone from the bedside table. There was a new text. “The head of the history department texted Steven.”

“How do you know the head of the history department?” Jake asked.

“Had to make sure none of Khonshu’s men were workin’ there when we got Steven the job, remember? I ran checks on everyone.”

“Ah, si.”

“He says that if Steven doesn’t come back soon they’re gonna have to discuss his future at the school. Guess being a new and absent professor doesn’t look good.” Marc dropped the phone back on the table with a loud thud. “For fuck’s sake. Steven!”

Marc stormed over to the three-way mirror vanity. Jake was there on Marc’s left, but he only saw his own reflection in the other two panels.

“Steven, buddy, I know this sucks. I really do…alright. I’ve had my fair share of breakups, but we have to get things back to normal.” He kept looking at his reflection as though he were challenging it to move on its own.

“He will come out when he’s ready, we can’t–”

“Yes we can,” Marc’s voice cracked as he looked away from the mirror.

Jake recognized that tone. Guilt. Marc was feeling an immeasurable sense of guilt that was weighing on him heavily. Steven had suffered for years, forced to be a passenger in the body while Marc and Jake were doing unspeakable things. He’d finally found happiness, a good job, a girlfriend, all the things any guy could want…and now that was ruined too. Marc just wanted Steven to be happy, but not at the cost Steven would have to pay if things went awry.

“Steven…” Marc looked back at his reflection, “Steven I’m sorry, okay? I’m really, truly sorry. Not just for this, but for all of it. I can’t fix this situation. I can’t let you be with her, but I promise that we can work on finding you a new girlfriend. Right, Jake?”

Jake tried not to think about you, and all the things that he loved about you too. The way you smiled, the way you kissed, and mostly the way you looked at him like he mattered. It was such a simple thing, but most of the time no one looked at him like that. He was the ‘scary’ one of the three, often forced to front when neither of them were conscious or when things got physically dangerous, and they hadn’t been in physical danger for quite some time. Jake was nothing…except when he was with you.

“Right,” he answered begrudgingly, knowing that Marc was right in his suggestion to help Steven get over you by finding him someone new to fall for.

“See? You can find someone else. Plus you have all those students who look up to you that I’m sure would like to have you back.”

Marc was trying so hard to keep his cool. He started pacing around, eyes darting to every reflective surface they had in hopes that he would catch a glimpse of his alter. He flopped on the couch and slumped over, burying his face in his hands and groaning.

“We have to try a new approach. Jake…do you remember how to make Steven’s favorite meal?” Marc looked up at the television screen to meet Jake’s eye.

“Si.”

“Good. I don’t know if it will work, but at this point…I’m willing to try anything.”

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